


Mile Marker 17

by frankiesin



Series: Say It With Neon [1]
Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, BB Panic Era, Cheesy 80s Music, Homophobia, I'm Sorry, Minor Character Death, Multi, Non-binary character, Religious Discussion, Slow Burn, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Underage - Freeform, eventual polyamory, homophobic violence, religious homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-08-29 02:30:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 155,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8472103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankiesin/pseuds/frankiesin
Summary: Instead of spending his summer hanging around Summerlin, sixteen year old Spencer Smith and his best friend Ryan Ross take a roadtrip to Chicago to move in with Ryan's boyfriend. That she met online, and is in college already.Look, at least he left a note for his mom before he left. Featuring: emotionally mature trans boy Spencer, angsty teen trans girl Ryan, a pair of runaway gay Mormons, an elusive cat lover named Jon, and an unhealthy amount of gas station food.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Me, impulsively at 7 pm on a Friday: I should start posting my NaNo novel. 
> 
> So, here it is. The AU is essentially "what if Ryan and Spencer were both tiny trans trainwrecks, Ryan and Jon were internet dating, and Dallon and Brendon were both gay Mormon failboats? And then they moved to Chicago and made a band?" 
> 
> Fall Out Boy may show up, it just depends how far I go into this AU hell.

**June 12, 2004; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

Spencer tapped his fingers against the soft, pale skin of his thigh, wondering what was taking Ryan so long to show up. She’d promised to get to the pool as soon as she could get away from her dad, and Spencer didn’t want to put more pressure on her. Ryan’s life was hard enough without Spencer complaining about how she left him alone at the neighbourhood pool with his kid sisters. Spencer knew that, if Ryan didn’t show up soon, he could always call her on the pool phone. His mom had made him leave his new cellphone at home, because she was afraid that Spencer would drop his phone in the pool or get it wet somehow. 

 

Spencer squinted at the clock across the pool. It was a little bit after two in the afternoon. He’d only been here for half an hour, but it felt way longer. Spencer was sweating through his t-shirt and his binder, but he wasn’t going to take either one off. There were too many people here, and he got enough weird looks just sitting on the edge of a navy blue pool chair. He was a teenager, with hair that was too long and ruined by shitty flatirons. His sunglasses were from a gas station and they were big and round and kind of weird looking, but Spencer liked them because people couldn’t tell who he was looking at when he had them on. He liked the ambiguity. 

 

It was too hot to just sit out and wait for Ryan, and besides, it had been an entire half hour since Ryan said she’d be there. Spencer grabbed his flip flops with his toes and put them on, careful not to touch the hot concrete of the pool deck. He walked around the deck, the sound of his shoes slapping against the ground drowned out by splashing and kids yelling, and the occasional shrill tweet of the lifeguard’s whistle. Spencer let himself into the lifeguard’s office. He was a regular at the pool, and his parents had an actual membership, so if he wanted to use the phone without a lifeguard watching over him to make sure he didn’t do a prank call or something, then he could. Besides, he was sixteen, nearly seventeen. He was practically an adult, and once he was actually an adult, he wouldn’t need to get someone’s permission to use a phone at a pool. 

 

He hesitated, once he had the actual phone in his hand. Spencer had two options: call Ryan’s house and potentially have her dad answer, or call Ryan’s cellphone and hope that she’d bothered to charge it. Spencer sighed and dialled Ryan’s house, crossing his fingers and hoping that either her dad wouldn’t pick up or that Ryan would. 

 

The phone rang for what felt another thirty minutes, but eventually Spencer heard Ryan’s voice say, cautiously, “um, this is George Ross’s house phone. Please leave a message. Um, thanks. Bye.”

 

Spencer didn’t leave a message. He pushed his hair out of his face, checked over his shoulder to make sure that no one had noticed him in the lifeguard’s office without an adult watching him, and dialled Ryan’s cellphone. Spencer tapped a rhythm out on the faded red counter while the phone rang in his ear. “Come on, come on, Ryan. Charge your fucking phone.”

 

“Hello?” Ryan’s voice crackled over, static filling the silence after her question. “Who is this?”

 

“Ry, it’s me,” Spencer said, and didn’t bother saying his name. Ryan could recognise Spencer’s voice over the worst connection. She’d proved it, two summers before, when Spencer’s family had taken a roadtrip from Summerlin to Disneyland, and Spencer had spent most of the ride through Buttfuck Nowhere, California trying to call Ryan and tell her everything he was seeing. He leaned against the countertop for a second before remembering how unstable it was, and then shifted so that he was leaning up against the bulletin board on the back wall. “Where are you?”

 

“I’m at a bus stop,” Ryan said. “I don’t think I can go to the pool today, Spence. I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s fine, it’s way too hot to be outside anyway,” Spencer said. He pulled on his t-shirt, fanning himself. The lifeguard office was stifling hot, because there wasn’t any air movement and the fan in the corner had apparently broken over Memorial Day weekend. “Do you want me to join you, or something? I don’t want you to just be alone somewhere. It’s hot out, and it's June, and you could be hanging out in  my basement instead of some random bus stop.”

 

“Can we go somewhere?” Ryan asked. “I don’t care where, I just need to get out of here.”

 

“Yeah, totally,” Spencer said. “Let me call my mom so I can go home and put clothes on, and then I’ll come find you and we can go wherever you want.”

 

* * *

 

They ended up at the mall downtown, because there weren’t any good places for two transgender teens to hang out in Las Vegas in the middle of June. The mall wasn’t any less crowded than the pool, but it did have air conditioning and an internet cafe, which took care of both Spencer and Ryan’s needs. Spencer left Ryan in the internet cafe to go in search of iced coffees. His mom had dropped them off with forty dollars each, and made Spencer promise to call her before eight. Spencer didn’t have a curfew during the summer, and so neither did Ryan, but his mom was paranoid that they’d get hurt if they were in Las Vegas after dark. 

 

She had a good reason to be paranoid, Spencer thought as he walked through the mall, trying to remember where the Starbucks was. Ryan was a trans girl, and when she’d been outed at the end of last year, it had gotten so bad at school that she almost left. The only thing that kept Ryan going for those last two months of her high school career were Spencer and some guy she’d met on a livejournal forum. His name was Jon, and apparently he and Ryan were dating. Spencer didn’t trust Jon, because he was older and from the internet and said he lived in Chicago, just like Fall Out Boy. But Jon hadn’t done anything mean to Ryan yet, and so Spencer kept his worries to himself. Their weird online relationship would probably fall apart when Ryan went off to whatever college she’d accepted. 

 

Spencer found the Starbucks--finally--but the line was super long and there was a Smoothie Hut right next to it that only had three people in line. On one hand, Spencer just wanted a cool drink. On the other hand, any excuse to get iced coffee was a good excuse, and he’d never had a mall smoothie before. What if the smoothie maker person didn’t blend the drink enough, and there were strawberry chunks in the bottom of Spencer’s drink?

 

Spencer tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. His hair was long, and he wanted to cut it, but Ryan was growing her hair out and Spencer had promised to grow his own out to show support for her. 

 

The guy working at the Smoothie Hut looked like he was about Spencer’s age. He was smiling and bouncing around, and Spencer wondered how someone could have all of that energy at four in the afternoon when it was sweltering hot outside and everyone had brought their summer lethargy into the mall with them. It just didn’t seem possible. Spencer narrowed his eyes at the Smoothie Hut cashier, who happened to look over at Spencer at that exact moment. The guy’s face fell, and Spencer hadn’t even realised that he had his bitch face on. He tried to smile, to let the guy know that he wasn’t being a dick, but the Smoothie Hut guy had already turned to his next customer in line and Spencer was left awkwardly smiling at no one. 

 

He got in line for Starbucks and spent the whole waiting period thinking about the Smoothie Hut guy and not what he wanted to drink. 

 

Ryan was still emailing Jon when Spencer got back to the internet cafe, and she had another window open with her Livejournal profile. Spencer dropped down into the chair beside her and pushed her drink over. “I got you an iced coffee. What’s your internet boyfriend doing?”

 

“Talking about the apartment he’s moving into,” Ryan said, rolling her eyes. “And his name is Jon, Spence. We’ve been dating for five months, how do you still not know who he is?”

 

“Well, I’ve never met him, and also he’s in college,” Spencer said. “Which is kind of terrifying. Where’re you going to college, anyway? You still haven’t told me.”

 

“It’s a surprise,” Ryan said. Spencer rolled his eyes and drank from his iced coffee. Ryan stopped typing for a moment, and turned to face Spencer. “You don’t follow me on Livejournal, right? I don’t care if you do or not, but I’ve got some sappy poetry saved up and I don’t want to post it publicly if you’d see it and read it. It’s for Jon, but, like, I don’t want to hide it from all the other people who follow me. Most of them know about me and Jon anyway, and think we’re super cute together.”

 

“I don’t even have a Livejournal,” Spencer said, but now he had plans to get one. “What would I even do with one if I had it? I don’t write shit, Ry.”

 

“I know, but you’re weird,” Ryan said, and turned back to the computer. Spencer stared at her, doing his bitch face again, but she wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. She had Jon, who was in Chicago and going to be a sophomore in college. And was apparently moving into an apartment, which was such a weird, foreign adult thing. Ryan was dating an adult, an actual adult that she’d never met in real life. 

 

Spencer sighed. “What if Jon’s not real?”

 

“He is real,” Ryan said. She didn’t stop typing. “Why are you so convinced that he’s a weird pedophile who’s going to murder me in the middle of the night or something?”

 

“Because he might be?” Spencer said, “you’ve never met him off the internet. What if he’s lying to you? What if he’s really some guy who’s going back to college for his second degree or whatever and he’s actually like thirty-five and has two kids? Are you ready to be a mom?”

 

“He has a cat,” Ryan said. “And when--if I move in with him and his cat, I’ll be the best cat mom the world has ever seen.”

 

“What if he has a third arm?”

 

“Why’s that the thing you think would make me want to break off my relationship with him? You think I can’t handle a guy with an extra arm, Spencer Smith?” Ryan asked. Since Spencer sat down next to her, she hadn’t switched over to the window with her Livejournal, and Spencer was starting to get suspicious about what she was working on over there. Ryan never hid anything from Spencer, and Spencer never hid anything from Ryan. 

 

Spencer shook his head. “I think you can handle a lot, honestly. I just don't want you to get hurt, okay?”

 

“Thanks, Spence,” Ryan said. She turned and looked at him, finally, and there was a genuine smile on her face. She put her hand over his and squeezed. “But I'm not going to get hurt. I know what I'm doing.”

 

* * *

 

**June 27, 2004; Las Vegas, Nevada.**

 

“I'm going to die of heatstroke,” Ryan said. “This is the worst thing ever.”

 

“You didn't have to come, you know,” Spencer said. He was probably just as hot as Ryan, if not more. After all, Ryan wasn't wearing a tight spandex binder under her dress shirt. Spencer stretched his legs out so that his feet were under the row of chairs in front of him, Ryan, and Spencer's family. “Charise isn't your cousin, she's mine. You're the one who wanted to come to the wedding.”

 

“Yeah, because Charise invited me and your mom said it was cool if I came,” Ryan said. She rolled her eyes and fanned herself with the bulletin, strands of her flat-ironed hair flapping in the breeze she’d made for herself. Ryan had her legs crossed at the knee, and she was sitting like she was just another one of the girls here, even though she was in a suit. “Charise is pretty cool, for a Catholic. She’s my favourite cousin.”

 

“She’s not really your cousin,” Spencer said. Technically speaking, that was true. Spencer and Ryan weren’t related by blood or anything deep like that. They were just best friends who had grown up on the same street, going to the same school and bonding over not being like the other kids. Ryan was almost Spencer’s sister. Spencer flicked his hair out of his face for what felt like the fiftieth time. “But you’re still family, Ry. Just, maybe keep the complaining to a minimum, at least while the relatives are here. They already think it’s weird that you’re at the ceremony.”

 

“Yeah,” Ryan said. “And they’re gonna flip their shit when they realise Charise invited me to the reception too.”

 

“That’s going to be the worst,” Spencer said, rolling his eyes. He didn’t get a chance to explain, because the music started then, and everyone turned their eyes to the back of the outdoor chapel. Charise, Spencer’s cousin on his mom’s side, stood there with her dad, dressed in a white dress. Beside Spencer, Ryan let out a sigh, and whispered, “I can’t wait to do that. My dress would be super cool.”

 

“I know,” Spencer whispered back. “Just don’t have it in the middle of the summer or I won’t show up.”

 

“You wouldn’t,” Ryan whispered, gasping. Spencer’s mom gave them a look, arching her eyebrow up and silently telling the two of them to be quiet. Spencer nodded, and reached around to flick Ryan’s arm and motion at his mom. Ryan nodded, still looking a little starstruck by Charise and the whole wedding ceremony thing. Spencer turned back around so that he was facing the altar, where Charise’s soon to be husband was standing. He’d never really thought about weddings, or getting married. His parents had never pushed the marriage thing on Spencer, even before he came out to them as a transgender guy. 

 

Spencer wondered if it was because he and Ryan were so close without being romantically involved. His parents thought he was a lesbian for a while, until he came out to them as trans. His parents probably just decided to not talk about marriages and shit because they didn’t think he’d ever get to have that. Spencer, in the middle of his cousin’s wedding, realised that his mom and dad were probably right. There was only one state in the entire country where Spencer could get married without people asking questions, and that state was all the way across the country. Spencer didn’t have an excuse or a reason to move all the way to Massachusetts, not unless Ryan’s going to college in Massachusetts and the reason she hasn’t told Spencer is because she’s worried he’ll panic about how far away it is from Las Vegas. 

 

The ceremony goes smoothly, and Charise’s parents both cry because Charise is their only daughter and apparently that means something. She has two brothers, one of which is already married. Charise’s parents didn’t cry at their son’s wedding. 

 

“Spencer, Ryan, come on,” his mom said, gathering up the twins as the rest of the wedding party started to leave the area. The two got up and followed Spencer’s mom and dad back to the family minivan, the four kids getting in the back and arguing over who would get to sit where in the car. Jackie and Crystal didn’t want to have to climb all the way into the back, because they were both wearing dresses and dresses were harder to move around in (Spencer knew this from his unfortunate childhood where he’d still been treated like a girl). Spencer and Ryan argued that they were too old to be sitting all the way in the back, and that suits were just as annoying to maneuver in. Ryan almost said that they were a “pain in the ass,” but she took one look at Spencer’s dad watching them through the rear view mirror and changed her wording to something a little more PG. 

 

“Spencer, Ryan, be nice to your sisters and get in the back,” Spencer’s dad said. Spencer’s mom was off talking to people, which meant they’d have to sit around in the hot car until she joined them. Spencer didn’t want to, because he was already sweating and he knew the car wouldn’t cool off before they got to the place where the reception was being held. He was tired of being sweaty. He was tired of wearing this suit, even though it did make him look like a man and not a weird lesbian. Spencer hated looking like he was a weird lesbian. He wasn’t even a girl. Ryan was more likely to be a lesbian than Spencer, because she’d made out with a bunch of girls before Jon happened. Spencer had kissed two people, one boy and one girl, and neither of them had ever called back. 

 

Not that any of Ryan’s girls ever called back once they found out that Ryan was a girl. It was so shallow, really, ditching Ryan just because she was a girl too. 

 

Spencer pulled at his tie and tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling of the car. “Ryan, this is the worst time to get married.”

 

“Maybe it’d be better if we weren’t wearing suits,” she said. Ryan hadn’t worn a dress, or girl clothes, to the wedding because she didn’t look like the other girls yet. She wasn’t ready to deal with all of the bullshit that came with being openly transgender and dressing like a girl. 

 

“I’m not wearing a dress, if that’s what you’re trying to get me to do,” Spencer said, carefully. 

 

Ryan shook her head. Her hair, when straight, was just past her chin and she looked like one of those models on TV who had yellow squares of eyeliner around their eyes. She let out a sigh. “You should cut your hair, Spence. You look like a greasy baby with your hair like that.”

 

“I do not,” Spencer said. He was already planning when he’d get his hair cut. Sure, he’d stopped cutting it for Ryan’s sake, so she wouldn’t have to grow her hair out on her own, but now that she’d given him her blessing to cut it all off, he was taking it. It was too hot to have long hair. It was too hot for much of anything, at this point, but Spencer couldn’t fix everything. He could definitely fix the length of his hair, so long as his mom could drive him to the hairdresser. 

 

* * *

 

**July 4, 2004; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

Spencer’s not used to having lazy summers. Before she got outed, Ryan was weirdly popular amongst the scene kids and the emos and all the weirdos who didn’t fit in with what high schoolers were supposed to be. Spencer was popular by association, and because he had cool parents who let their son have sleepovers and parties pretty much every weekend during the summer. 

 

This was the first summer that Spencer didn’t have any Fourth of July plans, and he’d decided that he liked the alternative better. He was bored. He wasn’t going to spend the night with his family and watch fireworks, because he hadn’t done that for years and it would be weird to come back now. He was alone in the house, because everyone else was out in the neighbour’s backyard, grilling and laughing and having a great time. 

 

Spencer stared at his cellphone, which hadn’t gone off once today. Ryan usually texted Spencer whenever they weren’t going to hang out that day, because she missed him a lot and because if she was texting Spencer she didn’t have to deal with her dad. 

 

Spencer sent another text to Ryan. It was his third one, and he was starting to worry that he was getting annoying, and that maybe Ryan had gone somewhere without him. It wasn’t a very Ryan thing to do, because Ryan and Spencer were a pair, but Ryan was a year older than Spencer. If she wanted to go and do more adult things, she couldn’t have her high school, baby-faced friend tagging along. Spencer could respect that. He could. He just wished that Ryan was lounging at his computer, complaining about whatever it was that bothered her that day. 

 

Spencer sat up. His computer. Which had internet. And could access Livejournal. 

 

He launched himself at the desk, pressing the on button and then tapping his fingers aggressively until the computer screen loaded up and Spencer got to log himself on. His dad had an account on the computer as well, because his dad didn’t trust sixteen year old Spencer not to go looking up porn in his spare time. Unfortunately for Spencer’s dad, both Spencer and Ryan were better at technology and knew how to bypass all of the parental security features that had been installed. Of course, they weren’t using Spencer’s computer to look up porn, because that would be weird to do together. They were just looking at Fall Out Boy and My Chemical Romance fansites, and occasionally at the beginnings of fanfiction that were cropping up on Livejournal. 

 

_ What if Ryan writes Fall Out Boy fanfiction? _ Spencer wondered as he waited for Livejournal to load. Finally, it was there, and then Spencer had to figure out what Ryan’s name was. Spencer tried all of the obvious things first, because Ryan was a bit egotistical sometimes and she seemed like the kind of person to use her own name for her url. None of the urls Spencer came up with brought him to Ryan’s page, and so he started making shit up, hoping that eventually he’d find something that was obviously a page made by Ryan Ross. 

 

Spencer knew his best friend. It shouldn’t have been this hard to figure out what her fucking Livejournal was called. 

 

In a fit of frustration, and because he was certain she would never do this to him, Spencer typed in  _ spencerjsmith.livejournal.com _ into the search bar, and waited to see what would load. Naturally, Ryan was an ass and used Spencer’s name for her Livejournal url. Spencer rolled his eyes; Ryan had probably assumed that Spencer would never think to check his own name, because that would just be weird. Well, Spencer was bored and had nothing better to do than try and find his best friend on the internet, so of course he thought to search his own name. 

 

There were a lot of posts. Like Ryan had said, a month ago at the mall, many of them were sappy love poems, and Spencer skimmed over them because he didn’t really care what Ryan thought about Jon’s eyes. (He wondered, for a moment, how Ryan even knew what Jon’s eyes  _ looked like _ , but assumed that at some point they’d showed their faces to each other or Skyped or something.) There were posts about how horrible her dad was, how much she wanted to leave Las Vegas once and for all, and a few about the things she and Spencer had done. Spencer read over a few of those, even though he already knew how they ended. He’d been there, he just wanted to see how Ryan remembered their adventures. 

 

He accidentally refreshed the page, and wanted to scream because he didn’t want to have to scroll all the way back down and find where he’d been, but when the page reloaded, there was a new post. Spencer stared at the screen, not fully processing what the post said, and then clicked on it because he still wasn’t sure if he was making this up out of paranoia or if it was really happening. 

 

_ i’m leaving! finally! _

 

_ soon i’ll be in chicago, a real college girl. and i’ve finally gotten someone to get me from vegas to chicago. technically, there are two people getting me there, but i’ve only met one so far. craigslist is a wonderful (terrifying) place to go for answers.  _

 

_ since this is the “dangerous internet” (thanks, spencer, ilu), i won’t give you their full names. but it’s b and d, and i’ve met b because he works at the mall. he makes smoothies (they’re alright for smoothie hut). i don’t know what d does, just that he can drive for real and he’s willing to drop everything and leave for chicago. _

 

_ hell, if jon’s down for it, we might not have to go looking for any more roommates after this. b has a job, d (hopefully) has a job, and there were only two more rooms to fill in that apartment anyway.  _

 

_ -xoxo ryan _

 

Spencer had no idea what to do with that information, other than internalise it and hope that maybe Ryan was joking. Maybe she had some kind of view counter on her blog, and could see who was viewing it at any time. But that seemed improbable. If it was real, then that meant that Ryan was about to go off to Chicago, to live in an apartment with a guy she’d still never met in real life, and she’d be driving there with two random guys, only one of whom she’d met. 

 

The other worked at the Smoothie Hut at the mall. Spencer could figure out who he was. He just needed a car, a real plan that wasn’t just “stop Ryan from doing something dumb,” and to get permission from his mom to go to the mall alone. She was weird about that stuff, not letting her kids (Ryan included) go anywhere on their own on her watch. 

 

* * *

 

**July 9, 2004; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

Spencer was dressed in cargo shorts, a bright pink t-shirt that his mom insisted he keep (even though it was dumb and girly, it felt nice and it fit him), and a pair of boxy sunglasses. He was seated in the food court, cellphone open and at the ready. He was going to figure out which Smoothie Hut worker was B, and he was going to… he was going to do something. Probably interrogate him in the breakroom and demand answers. 

 

There were two people working at the Smoothie Hut, currently. One of them was in his mid forties and had more facial hair than hair on his head. The other was a teenage boy, and he was bouncy and smiling at everyone, even as the older guy rolled his eyes in the background. Spencer was pretty sure he’d seen the teenage boy before, probably at the mall. Spencer narrowed his eyes, trying to see either of the guys’ name tags so that he wouldn’t have to get up and buy a smoothie. Just because Ryan said that they were good on her blog didn’t mean that they were actually good. Spencer didn’t entirely trust Ryan’s taste in things. 

 

Spencer sighed and started tapping out a rhythm on the table. Whoever had sat here before him hadn’t cleaned up entirely, and there was a smear of sauce on the opposite side of the table. Spencer wasn’t going to clean it. It wasn’t his. He didn’t have to. 

 

He reached out, grabbed a napkin from the dispenser, and started rubbing at the mark. When it was finally gone, Spencer looked up at the Smoothie Hut guys again. The bouncy one was retreating to the back room, grinning and nodding his head and looking way to interested in doing his job. Spencer rolled his eyes and tossed the napkin into the trash. He grabbed his things (he’d brought a drawstring bag with a few miscellaneous items, just to make it look like he was at the mall for reasons other than stalking Smoothie Hut employees) and headed towards the little hallway that lead to the back doors of the food court restaurants. He stood in the entrance to the hallway, acting like he was waiting on someone to come out and meet him. 

 

A few minutes later, the bouncy kid appeared, looking less bouncy and more tired. Spencer knew he wasn’t supposed to go back there, since he wasn’t an employee, but he had to. He marched up to the guy and grabbed him by his skinny arm, pulling him back. “Do you know Ryan Ross?”

 

“What?” The guy said, his brown eyes widening. He didn’t try to pull away from Spencer. “Who are you?”

 

“I’m a friend of Ryan’s,” Spencer said, because he was. “Do you know her?”

 

“Yeah, why?”

 

“Why’re you taking her to Chicago and who’s the other guy who’s driving?” Spencer asked. He still didn’t know the guy’s name, just that it started with a B. Spencer let go of B’s arm, because it was probably weird to be grabbing a stranger’s arm in the employee’s only section of a mall. “I don’t want her to go alone, not with people she barely even knows.”

 

“Ryan’s going to Chicago to go to college,” B said, looking at Spencer like he was an idiot for not knowing where his best friend was going to college. “And me and Dallon are taking her because we’re trying to get out of Las Vegas and Chicago doesn’t seem like a bad place to end up in. She found Dallon online because he was looking for other people to go with us so that we’d actually have a destination once we left.”

 

“When are you leaving?” Spencer asked, because he was pretty sure Ryan wouldn’t tell him. 

 

B let out a sigh. “I only have a thirty minute break, and I’m really hungry. If you wanna be all weird and intrusive about your friend’s life choices, I get off of work at ten. You can come pester me when I’m done working.”

 

“Yeah, I can wait,” Spencer said. He had every intention of following through with his decision to stay until B left work at ten, so that Spencer could get all of the information he needed, but the mall closed at nine thirty, and Spencer’s mom knew when the mall closed and showed up five minutes before closing. She refused to let Spencer stay, because she didn’t buy his excuse that he was waiting for his friend to get off of work. Spencer didn’t know if the lie fell flat because he didn’t know B’s actual name, or because his mom knew that Spencer really didn’t have friends aside from Ryan. 

 

Spencer looked forlornly at the now empty Smoothie Hut, where only B remained. He was wiping down the counter and he didn’t look up as Spencer disappeared, trailing after his mom in defeat. 

 

* * *

 

**July 17, 2004; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

_ i’ve got a date: 8/3/04! i’ll miss the few people in las vegas who put up with me, but chicago is closer than i ever imagined it being. i’ve met up with b and d now, and we’ve mashed out the details of how the road trip is going to go.  _

 

_ unfortunately, d has the worst taste in music, so i might bleed out through my ears on the way there. but if i survive, i’ll post pictures of the apartment.  _

 

_ i should probably tell spencer that i’m leaving, but i’m afraid he’d do something impulsive if he found out i’d never be coming back. (and they say i’m the impulsive one!) _

 

_ -xoxo ryan _

 

Spencer stared at Ryan’s Livejournal, updated twelve hours ago with just one small post. Ryan still didn’t know that Spencer knew about her Livejournal, and now she’d posted when she’d be leaving for Chicago. And apparently never coming back, which was ridiculous. It wasn’t like Spencer’s parents wouldn’t be willing to let Ryan spend her breaks at their house. Ryan practically lived there, anyway. She might as well just move in. 

 

Spencer grabbed his wall calendar and flipped forward to August, circling the third with a bright orange Sharpie repeatedly. He flipped back to July and stared at the calendar for a moment, wondering if there was some way to get Ryan to admit that she was leaving forever without letting her know that Spencer had found her Livejournal. He didn’t want her to leave forever. He knew her relationship with her dad was beyond repair and that her mom had left early enough that Ryan didn’t even have a relationship with her, but that didn’t mean Ryan had to disappear from Las Vegas forever. 

 

Spencer’s phone started ringing from his bed. He put the Sharpie back in his pencil holder and moved to his bed, falling onto his back as he answered the call. “What’s up?”

 

“Hey Spencer, can I come over?” Ryan asked. Her voice sounded shaky, and immediately Spencer sat back up, his hair flopping into his face. He still hadn’t gotten it cut, but his mom had made an appointment, which meant that soon it would all be gone. Unless Ryan needed Spencer to keep his hair long, in which case Spencer totally would. 

 

Spencer nodded, even though Ryan was elsewhere. “Yeah, you can always come over. What happened?”

 

“I’ll tell you when I get there,” Ryan said. “Just leave the door open or something.”

 

“I will,” Spencer said. He wasn’t wearing pants. He searched his room for clothes, because it was one in the afternoon and even if Ryan didn’t call him out on wearing pajamas all day, one of his parents definitely would. He grabbed a pair of shorts (clean), and pulled them on while still keeping Ryan on the line. “Do you want me to keep talking to you until you get here, or?”

 

“I’m fine, Spencer,” Ryan said. She didn’t sound fine, but Spencer knew better than to argue over little things like that. “I’ll be over soon, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Spencer said. “I’ll go unlock the door.”

 

They hung up, and Spencer finished getting on clothes that he hadn’t been sleeping in. He grabbed a binder, too, even though Ryan didn’t care about whether or not Spencer passed off as a cis guy or not. Ryan knew Spencer was a guy, and she wouldn’t call Spencer out on not hiding his boobs. Once dressed, he headed down the stairs and sat outside the front door, waiting for Ryan to show up with his phone in his hand. He twirled it around in his hand, careful not to let it fall onto the ground and break. 

 

Ryan showed up a few minutes later. She had a backpack slung over one shoulder, no makeup on at all, and her hair was starting to curl from the heat and from how she was sweating. She looked like she’d been crying, if not on her way over, then right before she’d left her house. Spencer stood up, dropping his cellphone into his pocket, and pulled her in for a hug. Ryan pressed her forehead into Spencer’s shoulder, and Spencer turned his head towards her. “It’s gonna be okay, Ry. I promise.”

 

“I can’t wait to get out of here,” she said to his shoulder. Spencer just held his friend, letting Ryan feel whatever it was she couldn’t feel at home. It was hot out, Ryan was sweaty and gross, pressed up against Spencer, and Spencer’s neighbours could come out and see the two of them at any time. Not that Spencer had a lot of neighbours nearby, since his house faced a park and he was almost in the corner of his neighbourhood. Spencer didn’t care too much about what people thought about him; he’d long ago come to terms with being a weird kid. But he wouldn’t let people be assholes to Ryan. 

 

Ryan lifted her head and wiped her face with the back of her hand. She stepped away from Spencer. “We should go inside. It’s hot as fuck out here.”

 

“I think my mom has some freezer pops in the garage,” Spencer offered. Ryan nodded. They dropped her bag off in Spencer’s room first (Ryan was the only girl Spencer’s parents had allowed back in his room) and then headed to the garage. It was just as hot as being outside, except with less sun. Spencer opened the freezer and the two just stood in front of it for a while, enjoying the cold. Spencer closed his eyes. “Mom’s gonna yell at me for leaving the door open. What flavour do you want?”

 

“Green,” Ryan said. 

 

Spencer opened his eyes, nodding. He grabbed a green one for Ryan and a blue for himself, because blue was the best flavour, always, and Spencer would fight anyone who said otherwise. He wouldn’t actually fight them, because Spencer wasn’t much of a fighter unless he really had to be, but he’d definitely come up with a convincing argument as to why they were wrong and how they didn’t know shit about good flavouring. 

 

Upstairs, Ryan laid claim to Spencer’s bed instead of his computer chair, which was weird. Spencer sat down in his chair and spun it around, kicking his legs up so that they were on the edge of his bed. He tilted his bare foot so that he could poke Ryan’s calf, and bit off the end of his freezer pop. “You wanna talk about it?”

 

“It’s just my dad being a dick,” Ryan said. She looked over to where her bag was leaning sadly against Spencer’s dresser. “He found some of my makeup, yelled at me, called me a bunch of shitty things, and threatened to get rid of anything girly he found. I don’t think he’d actually go through with it, but I got scared anyway. I’ve spent the entire summer getting all of this stuff. I don’t want to have to start over when I go to college.”

 

“Is your stuff in the bag?” Spencer asked.  _ Tell me where you’re going, Ry. Please. I already know, but I just want you to trust me with it.  _

 

“Yeah,” Ryan said, biting off the end of her own freezer pop and sitting up so that she could toss the corner she’d ripped off into Spencer’s Lego trash can. She flopped back down onto the bed and looked down her body at Spencer. If she wasn’t so ridiculously skinny, she’d probably have a funny double chin going on. “Can I leave it with you, just for a bit?”

 

“Are you going to grab it before you go to college, then?” Spencer asked. 

 

“Duh,” Ryan rolled her eyes, biting off some flavoured ice and sucking it into her mouth. She crossed her legs at her ankles. “Oh, by the way, you should totally come over and help me pack, sometime closer to August. I don’t want to do it alone, and you’re my best friend anyway.”

 

“It’s already close to August,” Spencer said. “But yeah, totally. You’ll probably forget all of your pants or something if I don’t help you pack everything up.”

 

Ryan grinned. The two fell into companionable silence, Ryan taking up most of Spencer’s bed. At some point, Spencer brought up the new My Chemical Romance album on MySpace and they listened to it, Ryan singing along to the lyrics because of course she knew them already. Spencer knew some of them, but he couldn’t sing for shit and so he wasn’t about to ruin Ryan’s moment. Spencer pretended to play the drums, and Ryan added in some of her own air guitaring a few songs into the album. It didn’t solve any of Ryan’s problems, but it seemed to make her a little happier, and that was all Spencer could hope for. 

 

Spencer’s dad knocked on the door halfway through  _ Thank You for the Venom _ and said, “Spencer, you’ve got a hair appointment in twenty minutes. You should probably get ready if you haven’t yet.”

 

“Can Ryan come?” Spencer asked, because Ryan came everywhere, usually. 

 

Ryan shook her head. “I’ll just stay here, if that’s cool?”

 

“That’s fine, Ryan,” Spencer’s dad said. “You’re welcome to anything in the house, within reason, of course. Don’t steal the car while we’re out.”

 

“No promises, Mr. Smith,” Ryan said. Spencer rolled his eyes. As soon as his dad was out of the room, Spencer gathered some real clothes to change into. He made Ryan look away, because Ryan was a girl and it was still a little weird to undress in front of other people, even if they were his best friend. Once dressed, Spencer let Ryan look away from the wall and searched for his hairbrush. He didn’t want to look like a total disaster in front of whoever was going to cut his hair. 

 

Before he left, while he was bent over and tying his shoes, he asked Ryan, “you’re gonna be okay in the house, right? Like, I don’t know how long me and dad will be gone--”

 

“Dude, stop worrying about me,” Ryan said. “While I’m here, I’m fine. I just can’t stay here all the time.”

 

_ You totally can _ , Spencer thought, but didn’t say it out loud. He’d convince Ryan to come back to Las Vegas after college later, when he didn’t have somewhere to be. 

 

* * *

 

“Oh, hey, dad, can we stop by the mall?” Spencer asked on the way back from getting his hair cut. It was all gone now, shortened down so that Spencer kind of looked like a cis lesbian. It wasn’t what he was going for, but now he could style it like the scene kids did and maybe start to look cool. Probably not, because Spencer had the sex appeal of a small bumblebee and there had never been people lining up to kiss him, even when he’d had Ryan’s friends. 

 

“You’re at the mall a lot,” he said, but he put on his blinker to head in the direction of the mall anyway. “What’s there that’s so important?”

 

“I’ve got a friend who works at the Smoothie Hut in the food court,” Spencer said. 

 

“Is this the same friend that you don’t know the name of?” His dad asked. “Because Ginger told me about that. Look, Spence, your mom and I don’t care if you like girls, boys, or whoever, but you need to respect them. You can’t just follow someone around at work all day and try to get their attention. It’s rude, and it’s a little creepy because while they’re working, they can’t tell you to leave. Especially if the guy you’re talking about is working at a restaurant. I know you’ve never had a job, Spencer, but it’s a pain in the ass sometimes.”

 

“Dad, I don’t have a thing for this guy,” Spencer said, sinking deeper into the front seat. “He’s just… he’s someone Ryan met online and I’m making sure he’s not a homophobic butt or anything.”

 

Spencer’s dad nodded, and said that he’d be in Sears if Spencer needed him. He gave Spencer an hour, since Ryan was back at the house and Spencer’s mom would be home with the twins at some point. Spencer agreed to the terms, and booked it to the food court. He was aware that people were looking at him as he half-ran through the mall, and he was also aware that he no longer had long hair to hide behind, but he didn’t care. This was his final chance. Ryan was leaving for Chicago in two weeks. Spencer had to figure out who B and D really were, and if there was any way to convince them to not take his best friend away for forever. 

 

Spencer didn’t even know if B was working at Smoothie Hut today, but something inside Spencer made him think that B would be there. Maybe B was always there. Maybe he had no life outside of his summer job. He didn’t look like he had many friends. He wasn’t an ugly kid, from what Spencer remembered of him, but he wasn’t hot or anything. And he was too bouncy, and he had these bright red glasses that looked dumb. His haircut was also pretty ridiculous, and that was saying something, coming from Spencer. 

 

Sure enough, B was there. He was taking people’s orders, smiling and bouncing around as usual. Spencer squared his shoulders and got in line behind the two people who were there already. He didn’t even want a smoothie, despite having a ten dollar bill crumpled in the tight front pocket of his jeans. When it was Spencer’s turn to get up to the counter, B’s eyes widened again, and he looked a little scared to be there, talking to Spencer. Spencer didn’t think he was that intimidating. He glanced over his shoulder, but no one was behind him. So, that meant that Spencer was making B nervous. Somehow. He walked up to the counter and ordered a strawberry smoothie because he didn’t know what else to get. 

 

“Did you ever talk to Ryan about it?” B asked while he typed in Spencer’s order. 

 

Spencer shook his head. “I don’t know how to ask without letting her know I was snooping. And I have a question for you, anyway.”

 

B grinned across the counter at Spencer, and Spencer lowered his gaze to the guy’s name tag so that he could finally find out who he was talking to. It read, in a bright purple font that hurt Spencer’s eyes a little,  _ Brendon! _ The exclamation mark was included, and it didn’t look drawn on. Brendon cleared his throat. “What’s the question?”

 

“Where are you and D--” Spencer took a moment to remember who Brendon had said D was when Spencer first cornered him, “--Dallon picking Ryan up from, and at what time?”

 

“Are you going to come with us?” Brendon said, and he made a face that wasn’t a company smile. Up until that moment, the idea of leaving Las Vegas and going to Chicago with Ryan had never entered Spencer’s mind. He still had a year of high school left, but there were people who finished high school on their own all the time. He could probably figure out a way to transfer to a school in Chicago, and finish there and go to whatever college Ryan was at. His parents would probably be really pissed off with him, but Spencer was their oldest and they trusted him for the most part. Besides, his mom always said he was independent and mature for his age. 

 

Spencer nodded. “Yeah, I’m considering it. If Ryan leaves, I don’t have much left here anyway. We were going to start a band together at some point, and I can’t do that if she’s never coming back.”

 

“You’ll have to clear it with everyone else, first,” Brendon said, and started to print off Spencer’s receipt. “But I don’t have a problem with it and I don’t think Dallon will either. Just make sure you can get a job or whatever when we get up to Chicago. That’s part of the thing with Ryan’s boyfriend: we have to help pay rent if we want to live there.”

 

“I can get a job,” Spencer said, despite never having a job in his entire life. Brendon nodded, and scribbled something down onto the back of Spencer’s receipt before handing it over. “This is Dallon’s address, and the time we’ll be leaving. Ryan’s meeting us there because she said she didn’t want her dad to see her leave.”

 

“Thanks,” Spencer said. He folded the receipt up and slid it into his pocket with the rest of his change. By that point, his smoothie had been made, and so he retrieved his smoothie and headed towards the Sears at the far end of the mall. He spent ten minutes looking for his dad while sipping from his smoothie before an employee started following him and asking if he needed help looking for anything. Spencer shook his head. “Nah, I’m just looking for my dad. He’s in here somewhere.”

 

“I can call for him over the intercom, if you’d like?” The employee offered. Spencer gave him a look that would get dubbed a bitch face if he wasn’t also slurping from a smoothie. He shook his head and walked away. His dad was over in the kitchen section, examining some woks. Spencer walked over and tapped his dad on the shoulder, still drinking through the wall and ignoring the weight of the tightly folded receipt in his pocket. 

 

“Hey, dad, I talked to my friend,” Spencer said around the straw. “Can we go home now?”

 

“One moment, I’m trying to decide if I want this wok or not,” he said. 

 

Spencer rolled his eyes. “We already have one at home, dad. Let’s go, please?”

 

“Alright, fine,” his dad said, smiling and shaking his head at Spencer. Spencer followed his dad out of the Sears and the rest of the mall. He slid his hand into his pocket, moving his fingers so that he had the folded receipt in his hand. Spencer knew it was there, there was no way it could have fallen out, but he needed constant reassurance that he hadn’t lost it. He hadn’t even seen where Dallon lived, and Spencer needed to know where Dallon lived so that Spencer could go there on the third of August and head to Chicago with his best friend and two random guys who had a car. 

 

He just hoped his parents wouldn’t be too mad when they realised that Spencer wouldn’t be coming back any time soon. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer attempts to go on a date, Dallon is attractive, and they leave for Chicago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this super early (I usually update things once a week) because I'm writing it really fast for some reason. Hopefully the trend will continue, because I can easily see this fic going past 50,000 words (which is the length I need to win NaNoWriMo).

**August 2, 2004; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

Spencer couldn’t sleep. It was almost three in the morning, and he was laying in his bed, staring at his ceiling. There was a large poster of Fall Out Boy staring down at him. Spencer was pretty sure that Pete Wentz was shaming him for his life choices. Spencer stuck his tongue out at Pete Wentz. Pete didn’t know shit about Spencer’s life, or Ryan’s, for that matter. Spencer wouldn’t run away from everything he knew for just anyone. Ryan was special. 

 

Spencer rolled over onto his side and stared out of his window. The moon was shining clearly in the sky, with not a cloud in sight. Spencer wondered if Ryan was still awake, or if she was sleeping already, dreaming about being in Chicago with Jon. He sighed and reached out, grabbing the crumpled receipt from his bedside table and reading over the information for the seven hundredth time since he’d gotten it almost two weeks ago. 

 

There were three things on the paper, and even though Spencer had already memorised them, he kept reading them like it was the only thing he ever needed to know. 

 

_ Dallon W. address:  9401 sierra Summit Avenue _

_ meet at 9 am 8/3/04 (or earlier if you’ve got a lot of shit) b/c Dal wants to leave early _

_ my phone: 702-419-9004 _

 

Spencer had no idea why Brendon felt the need to add his own phone number. It wasn’t like Spencer would have a reason to call Brendon now that he had all the information he needed. It was probably Brendon trying to make friends with Spencer or something. Spencer wasn’t sure how he felt about Brendon. He obviously hadn’t interacted with the guy much, but so far Brendon just seemed too full of energy. Spencer wasn’t looking forward to spending a few days in a car with him. 

 

He would do it for Ryan, though. Ryan didn’t have to do this alone. 

 

Spencer swung his legs over the side of his bed and sat there for a moment. He had to call Ryan. He had to tell Ryan what was happening, because Ryan deserved to know that she wouldn’t be alone when she went to college in a few days. Spencer grabbed his cellphone and flipped it open, scrolling down to Ryan’s contact info and pressing call. He put his cellphone to his ear and waited, hoping that Ryan would still be awake. 

 

“Spencer? It’s the middle of the night,” Ryan said, but she didn’t sound like she’d just been woken up. “Why’re you calling me?”

 

“You never told me where you’re going to college,” Spencer said. 

 

“Oh, that,” Ryan said. She sounded tired now, but not the kind that came from a lack of sleep. “I’m going to the University of Chicago, Spencer. I know you think I’m being ridiculous, but I wanted to be near Jon, and it’s not like I’d be staying around Summerlin forever. And… I’m leaving two days from now.”

 

“Two days?” Spencer said, because last time he checked, the third was tomorrow. Of course, Ryan probably meant the third, and didn’t realise it was after midnight on the second and therefore less than twenty four hours until the day of her departure. 

 

“Yeah, I’m leaving the morning of the third,” Ryan said. “There’s this program for English majors, it’s like a pre-semester thing, and I wanted to do it anyway. This’ll just give me and Jon more time to get used to being around each other constantly. You can come visit, if you want.”

 

“Ryan, Chicago is half way across the country,” Spencer said. “I’m not going to just drive up there every time we miss each other.”

 

“Oh. Yeah.”

 

“Look, I’m happy for you, and I’m glad that you’re finally getting away from your dad and from all the shit heads who made high school the worst thing ever,” Spencer said. He let out a sigh and stretched his legs out, tapping his feet against the carpet. “I just don’t want you to go to Chicago and then us never see each other again.”

 

“We’ll see each other,” Ryan said. “I promise.”

 

“What if I went with you?” Spencer said, his heart racing in his chest, even though his decision was already final. He was worried that Ryan would hate him, or think he was being dramatic or whatever. Maybe Spencer was being dramatic. So what? Ryan was his best friend, and Spencer wasn’t about to suffer through his last year of high school while Ryan was halfway across the country, having the time of her life. 

 

“Spencer, no,” Ryan said. “You can't come with me. You're still in high school, and your mom and dad would never let you--”

 

“I’m not telling them, Ry,” Spencer said. “And I’ve figured everything else out, okay? I just don’t want you to hate me because I came with you.”

 

There was silence on the other end of the call. Spencer picked at the fuzz balls on his plaid pajama pants. He was regretting telling Ryan, when she could still stop Spencer from coming or tell his mom and dad that he was planning to leave. If Ryan said she didn’t want Spencer to come, Spencer wouldn’t come, because he could respect Ryan’s choices even though he thought they were wrong. But if Ryan didn’t tell Spencer to stay in Las Vegas, Spencer would be going to Chicago with her. 

 

“I could never hate you,” Ryan said, finally, after what felt like years of silence. “But are you sure you want to do this?”

 

“Duh. I’d do anything for you,” Spencer said. “You’re my best friend.”

 

* * *

 

Spencer woke up later that day with a headache. He felt like he was hungover, even though he’d never drank before in his life and he had no idea what a real hangover felt like. He just presumed it was a constant pounding in his head, much like what he was experiencing when he woke up to the bright sun streaming in through his window at ten that morning. 

 

This time tomorrow, he’d be on the road in a car that wasn’t his, heading to Chicago with his best friend and two strangers. Spencer wasn’t sure if he was scared or excited. He still needed to pack, but he couldn’t do that until his parents went to bed tonight, in case they came into his room and saw his suitcases out on the floor. Spencer knew better than to let himself get caught, because if he got caught then he’d have to tell his parents about Ryan and then his parents would get all parenty and try to convince Ryan to come home. 

 

Ryan wouldn’t come home. There was nothing for her here except a family that wasn’t officially hers and a father who sucked at fathering. 

 

Spencer rubbed his face with his hand and ran his fingers through his hair, still not used to how short it was. Ryan hadn’t seen it yet, and Spencer wondered if she’d even recognise him now that his mop of hair was gone. He grabbed his phone from the floor, where it had fallen sometime during Spencer’s sleep. It was dead, and so Spencer plugged it in before heading to the shower. He took his time blowdrying and straightening his hair, because his phone took forever to come back once it had died. 

 

His phone had just turned back on when Spencer came back to his room, and there was a message from Ryan:  _ wanna go to the mall? i need to get out of the house and stop packing :/ _ Spencer responded with an affirmative, and then headed downstairs to find someone to drive him to the mall. When he realised that neither of his parents were home and both of his sisters were gone, Spencer called Ryan. 

 

“Hey, Spence, what’s up?”

 

“I can’t get to the mall,” Spencer said. “No one’s here to drive me.”

 

“Oh,” Ryan said. There was a noticeable pause afterwards. Spencer wondered if she was already at the mall. “Um. Do you want me to come pick you up? I have my dad’s car right now. He doesn’t know.”

 

“Yeah, sure, whatever’s easier,” Spencer said. Ryan said she’d be over soon, and then the two of them ended their call. Spencer wandered around his house for a while, not used to being home alone. There was almost always someone here aside from Spencer, even if that person was Ryan. He started dancing around because there was no one there to criticise him. He only stopped when he heard the doorbell ring, and then he remembered that he had forgotten to unlock the door for Ryan. It was probably for the best, because Ryan definitely would have taken a photo or a video of Spencer dancing around like an idiot. 

 

Instead, Spencer opened the door to a clean faced Ryan Ross who was dressed like an emo girl. She was an emo girl. Spencer rolled his eyes. “Would you like to add some eyeliner to your look today?”

 

“Hell yeah,” Ryan said, stepping into Spencer’s house and heading up to his bedroom before Spencer even invited her in. Not that Spencer had ever invited Ryan into his house, not since they were really young children and Ryan wasn’t sure if she was Spencer’s best friend yet. Now, they were both incredibly comfortable with each other. A few people in school had assumed that they were dating, at least until Ryan started making out with and all the weird scene girls in school. Most of the girls were only interested in Ryan because they thought she was bisexual. She was, but she was also a girl and that was what freaked them all out. 

 

It was stupid. 

 

“Ryan, why’re you upstairs?” Spencer called after a moment of standing at the base of his stairs. “I thought we were going to the mall?”

 

“You have my makeup, you dick,” Ryan yelled back. “Also, I know this is super last minute, but Haley something or other texted me this morning and asked if you were still into girls because she’s looking for a date to a party tonight and she’s always thought you were cute.”

 

Spencer stared at the top of the stairs, even though Ryan wasn’t there to see his look of judgement. He knew of only one Haley, and last time he checked, she was into girls and maybe boys. Spencer tapped his fingers against the handrail. “Why’d she text you?”

 

“She doesn’t have your number,” Ryan said. She appeared at the top of the stairs a moment later, eyeliner smudged and a gentle sprinkling of black stars on the side of her face. She leaned against the wall, jutting her sharp hip out. “I can have her come join us at the mall, if you want. She’s super cute, and totally into the cool bands. You’ll like her.”

 

“I know who Haley is, Ry. We went to the same school,” Spencer said. “And I don't know if I want to go on a date right before I leave. What if it's really bad and my horrible attempt at dating is everyone's last memory of me?”

 

Ryan rolled her eyes. “Stop being dramatic, dude. I'll text her and have her meet us there. And don't worry about me third wheeling; its Brendon's day off and he asked if I wanted to do something. Apparently we're not the only weird teens in Summerlin with no friends.”

 

“Right, okay,” Spencer said. This was going to be interesting. Spencer barely knew Haley or Brendon, and all of his interactions with them were awkward. He'd do it for Ryan, though, and for an excuse to get out of his weirdly quiet house. 

 

When they got to the mall, Brendon was already sitting outside on a bench. He was dressed like he was trying to be both a scene kid and a normal teenager. He looked like he was trying way too hard to be cool. Spencer rolled his eyes as Ryan continued driving around in search of a parking space. “I can’t believe you’re getting a ride to Chicago with such a dork. Was he the only one in all of Las Vegas who wanted to leave?”

 

“Probably,” Ryan said. “He’s a Mormon, apparently, but he’s really weird. Like, hyperactive weird.”

 

“Great,” Spencer said as Ryan pulled into a parking space near the back of the parking lot. “He’ll be fun to ride with all the way to Chicago.”

 

“You’re telling me,” Ryan said, getting out of the car and leaning over the roof while Spencer got out. Ryan locked the car behind him and the two of them headed across the parking lot to where Brendon was still sitting on the bench and looking awkward. As they approached, Spencer took another look at him. Maybe he wasn’t so much awkward as he was lonely. He looked sad, when he didn’t think anyone was paying attention to him. Spencer hooked his thumbs into his belt loops, silently judging himself for caring about Brendon. Spencer didn’t know him. He was just taking Spencer and Ryan to Chicago.

 

“Hey Brendon,” Spencer said. Brendon’s head shot up from where he’d been staring off into the distance, and a grin instantly appeared on his face. Spencer found himself smiling back, even though it was obvious that Brendon’s smile wasn’t entirely real. Spencer tapped his fingers against his leg. “Sorry for being a dick the last time I saw you.”

 

“It’s fine,” Brendon said. He was still grinning. Spencer wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to act like he was fine if he wasn’t. Spencer was used to Ryan and all of her issues. He could handle whatever it was that was driving Brendon away from Las Vegas, probably.

 

Brendon hopped up from the bench, bouncing on his toes. “I’m just glad you two wanted to hang out with me. And Ryan said something about a Haley girl?”

 

“Yeah, she’ll be here in a few minutes,” Ryan said. “We can go inside, whenever. It’s too hot to stay out here.”

 

Brendon nodded, way too eagerly, and then trailed after Spencer and Ryan into the mall. They ended up in the Starbucks, seated at a tiny little table, with Spencer and Ryan on one side and Brendon on the other. It was just as awkward as Spencer had expected, because none of them knew what to say to each other and Ryan and Spencer knew each other too well to have just one other person hanging out with them. Finally, though, Haley showed up, and the four of them got to wandering around the mall and not buying anything. 

 

By the time it was six, Brendon had to go home, and Ryan made up some excuse that Spencer saw through but didn’t call her on. And then Haley and Spencer were alone. On a date. Apparently. Spencer was reminded why he’d stopped trying to date after he came out as trans. It was weird, because he never knew if people saw him as a guy or not, and he didn’t want to end up being someone’s girlfriend when he wasn’t even a girl. 

 

“So,” Spencer started to say. He didn’t have a clever way to finish that sentence. “Um.”

 

“There’s a movie theatre at the other end of the mall,” Haley suggested. “We can go see if we can sneak into a movie there. It doesn’t have to be that, we could go somewhere else if you’re not into movies.”

 

“No, that sounds fun,” Spencer said. He hadn’t been to see a movie of any kind in forever. He didn’t even know what was out right now. “I’ll buy you popcorn?”

 

“Sure,” Haley said, and reached for Spencer’s hand. Spencer let her have it. She had nice hands, even though they were weirdly cold and her nails scratched against Spencer’s skin when she started swinging their hands together. Spencer bought the tickets, and they ended up being for the new  _ Harry Potter _ movie, which Spencer only knew about because there were a handful of nerd girls at school who were super into the series. Spencer had never read it, and had only seen the first two movies because Ryan had made him, but Haley said it was supposed to be good and so they decided to go with it. 

 

They also bought drinks and popcorn, and sat in the back row, right under the projector. It was Spencer’s favourite spot in any theatre, because he usually went to the movies with Ryan and Ryan enjoyed adding her own sarcastic commentary during the showing. She never got yelled at, or told to shush, when she and Spencer sat in the back row. Also, if they chose a movie that wasn’t really popular, and no one sat in the seats in front of them, they could prop their legs up on the seats in front of them and really relax. Spencer explained this to Haley as they settled in, and she looked at him and said, “I thought people just came back here to make out.”

 

“Well, that too, but me and Ryan never did that,” Spencer said, setting his drink into the cup holder. “Are we going to make out or do you want to watch the movie?”

 

“I’m good with whatever,” she said. She placed her hand high up on Spencer’s thigh, and he didn’t move it away. He leaned into Haley, and she dropped her head onto his shoulder before grabbing a handful of popcorn and eating it. Spencer tried to not think about how close her hand was to his crotch, and how he wasn’t sure if she’d be disappointed when she finally got around to touching him. He focused on the trailers, not personally interested in any of the movies being shown, and slowly ate popcorn. 

 

Eventually, the screen faded to black and the  _ Harry Potter _ theme music started playing, and there was some chattering from the front of the theatre that was quickly shut down. Spencer and Haley finished their shared popcorn and their drinks, and Haley moved her hand up Spencer’s leg. Spencer turned his head towards her. “You know, if you want to make out with me, you just have to ask. I’m not going to say no.”

 

“Okay, cool. Let’s make out then,” Haley said. She lifted her head from his shoulder and kissed him. Spencer didn’t pay much attention to the rest of the movie. He kept Haley’s hands above his hips, because he didn’t want her to be disappointed with Spencer’s lack of a dick or anything. She kept pushing his hands down, and he didn’t mind, even as he pressed against her bare back and felt her bra under his fingers. 

 

When the movie finished and the credits came up, Spencer and Haley pulled apart. Her hair was a mess and Spencer could taste her lipgloss on his mouth. He wanted to wipe it off, just to stop feeling like such a girl, but he didn’t because that would be rude and he wasn’t Ryan Ross when it came to girls. Instead, he leaned over and placed his empty cup in the empty bucket of popcorn before picking them both up and standing. He extended his hand and pulled Haley up as well. She ran her hand through her hair, fixing it as much as she could in the dark of the theatre. “That was fun. You wanna hang out again?”

 

“Probably not,” Spencer said. Haley gave him a weird look and Spencer realised that that probably wasn’t what a girl wanted to hear after making out with someone in the back of a theatre for two hours. And it wasn’t said the way Spencer meant to, either. “Not that this wasn’t fun and all, it’s just that I’m leaving. Tomorrow morning. I’m going to Chicago and I probably won’t be back for a while.”

 

“Ryan said you were only going to be up there for a week,” Haley said as the two exited the theatre. She looked really confused. 

 

Spencer shook his head. Of course, Ryan didn’t think that Spencer was taking this whole moving to Chicago thing seriously. She didn’t believe Spencer had a reason to leave Las Vegas. Spencer shifted how he was holding the popcorn bucket. “Ryan’s wrong. And, I’m sorry if she gave you the wrong idea about us. She does that, sometimes, and it’s kind of a pain in the ass.”

 

“Spencer, it’s fine,” Haley said, putting a hand on his arm. “I had fun. And I’m sorry you’re leaving, because it would have been really cool for you to stick around for senior year and prom and all that, but I don’t blame you. High school sucks. If I had the option to leave and take a cross country trip with my best friend, I probably would.”

 

“Thanks,” Spencer said, because he didn’t know what else to say in response to that. Haley kissed him again before she left and got in her mom’s minivan, and then Spencer sat down on the same bench Brendon had been on and called his dad to come pick him up. He still had to pack for the trip the next morning, and now that the sun was down, Spencer was aware of how close his departure was. This was his last day in Las Vegas, and his last day as a normal kid, doing normal things like dating and hanging out at the mall. Tomorrow, he’d basically be an adult. He’d be on his own. 

 

Spencer pulled out his phone, and scrolled down to his most recently added contact. He pressed the call button, and put the phone to his ear, waiting for Brendon to pick up. 

 

“Hi! This is Brendon Urie!” Brendon’s voice said from the other end of the line. 

 

“Hey, Brendon, it’s Spencer,” Spencer said. “I know this is a weird question, but, um, how early tomorrow morning can I show up at Dallon’s house?”

 

“As early as you want, dude!” Brendon said. “Oh, and, when you do, don’t ring the doorbell. You don’t wanna wake up his parents, you know. Just knock. His bedroom’s on the first floor, so he’ll hear you if you knock.”

 

“Okay, cool,” Spencer said, as his dad pulled up. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

**August 3, 2004; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

Spencer was finally finished getting all of his things together. He’d decided to fill one suitcase with everything he could, and hope for the best. Dallon’s house was a forty minute walk from Spencer’s, and Spencer would have to walk it because he didn’t know how to use a cab. He also didn’t have any money on him, because he had to save everything he could to use on the trip to Chicago. He’d had to unpack and repack three different times before he’d gotten all that he needed together. He’d also packed a backpack full of stuff that he thought he might need, including his cellphone charger. He wouldn’t be able to take his computer, because it was a desktop and it was large and clunky and would probably weigh way too much to drag around Las Vegas. 

 

It was one thirty in the morning. Spencer couldn’t sleep. He was afraid he would sleep through his alarm, which was set to go off at seven so that he could sneak out of his house before his dad got up for work and his mom got up to take Jackie and Chrystal off to whatever thing they were doing that day. The twins did a lot during the summer. Spencer had never been so active. 

 

Spencer sat down on his bed, staring at his suitcase and backpack. He was tired, but he couldn’t sleep. He looked up at his poster of Pete Wentz, but Pete Wentz didn’t have any answers. Spencer wasn’t sure why he would, anyway. 

 

“Well,” Spencer muttered to himself. “I might as well head over now.”

 

He wasn’t sure why he thought that that would be a good idea, but he went with it. He grabbed his things and silently made his way through the house, making sure to lock the doors on his way out. Spencer didn’t want his family to get robbed on the same night that they lost their son. He dragged his suitcase down the driveway, very aware of all the noise it made in the middle of the night. The moon was covered by a cloud, but the night was lit up by street lights. 

 

Spencer started walking. He’d memorised the route from his house to Dallon’s house, and if he forgot, he had printed out the Mapquest directions and the Mapquest map. The papers were folded up in the pocket of his jeans, which clung to his legs. It was hot, even at one in the morning. Spencer wondered what Chicago would be like. It probably wouldn’t be this hot, which would be nice because then Spencer would be able to hide his legs under jeans. 

 

Las Vegas, at least the Summerlin part of it, was weirdly quiet at night. There were some people out and about, but they all left Spencer alone and didn’t seem to think there was anything weird about a teenage boy walking through various neighbourhoods in the middle of the night. Maybe it was because Spencer had a suitcase, or maybe it was because of his bitch face. 

 

When he arrived at Dallon’s house, the lights were all off except for in one window. It wasn’t the glowing yellow light that came from lightbulbs, but instead a dull, blue flashing light. Someone was up, watching TV in the dark. Spencer hoped it was Dallon, whoever Dallon was, and knocked on the door.

 

He knocked again when no one answered after a minute or two, and then as he was knocking for a third time, the light in the front hall of the house flicked on and the door open. A man, probably college aged, stood in the doorway. His hair was mussed up like he’d been running his hands through it, or maybe sleeping on it. Spencer couldn’t quite tell. He was squinting down at Spencer in the light of the front porch, like he wasn’t used to any kind of light. “Are you Ryan Ross?”

 

“I’m her friend, Spencer,” Spencer said. “You’re Dallon?”

 

“Yeah, but Ryan didn’t mention she was bringing a friend,” Dallon said, and ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. He yawned. “Why’re you here so early? We’re not leaving until the morning.”

 

“Technically, it is the morning,” Spencer said, which got a tired smile out of Dallon. “Brendon said you’d be awake to let me in whenever--” that wasn’t exactly what Brendon had said yesterday, but it was close enough that Spencer figured the lie would hold, “--and I couldn’t get to sleep anyway.”

 

“Same,” Dallon confessed, closing and locking the door behind Spencer. Now that Spencer could see Dallon clearly, he realised just how unfairly attractive the guy was. He was way too tall, but the good kind of tall, where the extra inches made him more desirable. His hair was a soft brown, and his eyes were like cloudy Saturday mornings. He had strong arms, hands made for holding and grabbing, and he looked very kissable. Spencer, it turned out, was pretty fucking not straight. 

 

Spencer followed Dallon around the corner, to the living room. The TV was still on, playing a muted Law and Order episode from 1997. Dallon dragged Spencer’s suitcase over to sit beside the couch, and Spencer dropped his backpack down on top of his suitcase before sitting down beside Dallon on the couch and taking his shoes off. Spencer tucked his feet up under him, leaning back against the cushions. It was a pretty soft couch. Spencer wasn’t sure what to say to Dallon, other than “hey, you’re fucking attractive.” He was pretty sure that wasn’t the right thing to say to the guy who’d be taking him to Chicago over the next few days, because Dallon probably wasn’t interested in a sixteen year old. 

 

“I’ve been watching this since I woke up about an hour ago,” Dallon said, unmuting the TV. “I thought that if I went to bed early, I’d be able to sleep through the night, wake up before my parents, and have the car ready to go for whenever you, Ryan, and Brendon showed up, but then I woke up around midnight and couldn’t fall back asleep. What’ve you been up to?”

 

“I had a date with a girl and she didn’t realise I was leaving today,” Spencer said. “I felt like an ass, but I wasn’t super interested in dating-dating her.”

 

“Then why’d you go out with her?” Dallon asked. He was weirdly easy to talk to. 

 

Spencer shrugged. “Ryan said she was interested. I didn’t want to say no to Ryan, not after I kind of forced myself into her escape from Summerlin. The date wasn’t bad or anything. We just saw a movie and made out for most of it.”

 

“So that’s what you kids are into these days.” Dallon was facing the TV, but there was a sly smile on his face, and Spencer felt his heart jump a little in his chest. “Making out in the back of theatres.”

 

“What, like you’ve never done that,” Spencer said. He crossed his arms over his chest. He’d had his binder on for a really long time, but he didn’t want to take it off, not when he was in a stranger's house. 

 

“I wasn’t very popular in high school,” Dallon said. “It was probably the haircut. That, and the Mormonism.”

 

“You’re a Mormon, too?”

 

“Yep,” Dallon said. His eyes flicked towards the ceiling, and Spencer didn’t know if he was thinking about God or his parents who were asleep upstairs. “But I’m not one of those homophobic, close-minded religious types, so don’t worry about it too much. I’m leaving here for the same reason your friend’s leaving, except it’s who I love that makes me an outcast, not my gender.”

 

“So you’re a gay Mormon?” Spencer asked. He really hoped that Dallon would see him as a real guy, not just a girl who thought she was a guy. Spencer was tired of gay guys thinking less of him for his gender shit. It wasn’t like he wanted to be trans; he just wanted to be a guy and kiss other guys and sometimes kiss girls, because girls were cute too. 

 

“Yep,” Dallon said. He yawned again, and Spencer did too. They settled into the couch, sliding lower and lower down into the couch cushions until they were both staring down their noses to see the screen. Spencer was a lot more tired now that he was where he needed to be, and so he closed his eyes. 

 

When he opened them again, there was sunlight streaming in from the window behind the couch, the lights in the room were on, and Dallon looked like he’d been forcibly awakened as well and was very confused. Also, there was a middle aged woman standing between the couch and the TV, and she had her hands on her hips and a frown on her face. She was staring at Dallon. “Really, Dallon, this is what you do now? Not only have you strayed from God’s path, but you’re bringing in young girls? How old is she?”

 

Before Dallon could even say anything to defend himself, or explain that Spencer was a guy and there was all a big understanding of what was happening here, the woman turned to Spencer. “How old are you? Fifteen? Did my son do anything to you?”

 

“What, no, I’m sixteen, and a guy, and me and Dallon didn’t do anything at all,” Spencer said. “We just… he’s driving me and a friend to Chicago and I came over too early and fell asleep here. I’m sorry?”

 

The woman, Dallon’s mother, apparently, shook her head. “I don’t know what I did wrong, Dallon. All of your brothers and sisters turned out fine, they’re all doing God’s work, but not you. I hope you find Him, Dallon, I really do. It’d be a shame for you to have to suffer in Hell for all of your sins.”

 

“We’re going to go out to the garage, mom,” Dallon said suddenly, his voice a lot deeper and more angry than Spencer remembered it being. “Don’t bother us. I just want to put all of Spencer’s stuff in the trunk.”

 

His mom narrowed her eyes and shook her head at each of them in turn, but she backed away and let Spencer and Dallon leave. Spencer didn’t ask. He knew enough to know that this--Dallon’s relationship with his mom--was something he wouldn’t be privy to. He grabbed his backpack, and Dallon grabbed his suitcase, and he followed Dallon through the house to the garage. Dallon closed the door to the house behind them, and opened the garage door, letting the morning sunlight stream in. There, in one of the spaces, was a bright purple minivan. There were a handful of bumper stickers scattered across the back of it, and there was a scratch along one side. Spencer raised an eyebrow. “Is that what’s getting us to Chicago?”

 

Dallon looked relieved that Spencer had decided to ignore the whole mom fiasco, and smiled gently at Spencer. “Don’t be so mean. This van is a lot stronger than it looks.”

 

Spencer nodded, and tossed his backpack into one of the back seats. The middle row of seats had been taken out, and the back seats had been moved forward to make room for all of the luggage in the back. Spencer felt like he had thoroughly under packed, but he wasn’t sure how else he would have been able to get to Dallon’s house on his own. He had to take only one suitcase. He climbed into the back seat and leaned over it to watch Dallon rearrange all of the luggage. “I feel like I should have brought more stuff.”

 

“Oh, this is both Brendon’s and mine,” Dallon said with a huff. He pushed a bag to the side to fit Spencer’s suitcase in. “And a few of Ryan’s things. You could have brought your bags over earlier, you know, since you had to walk.”

 

“I only told Ryan I was coming with her yesterday,” Spencer said. 

 

Dallon looked up and pushed his bangs away from his face. “Seriously? Were you trying to freak your friend out, or are you just bad at remembering important information?”

 

“I thought she’d be mad.”

 

“That’s also reasonable,” Dallon said. “My parents gave me a deadline to get straight or get out of the house. And since we both know that only one of those is possible, here I am. Taking you and your friend Ryan up to Chicago three weeks before you two start college. You’re going to college with her, right?”

 

“I’m still in high school,” Spencer said. 

 

Dallon looked at Spencer like Spencer had just said that gay people weren’t real. “You’re in high school? Then what the hell are you doing, running away? Am I going to get arrested because I’m technically kidnapping a minor?”

 

“Ryan’s seventeen,” Spencer said. “And I’m gonna call my parents once we’re out of Vegas. They won’t come after you.”

 

“Ryan has a shitty excuse for a dad,” Dallon argued. “And she’s turning eighteen in less than a month, so it doesn’t matter that much. You said you were sixteen earlier, right? And if you’re about to be a senior in high school that means you’ve got at least a year before you’re an adult and I can not feel like some kind of villain taking you away from your family.”

 

“You’re not taking me away from anyone,” Spencer said. He rolled his eyes. “I’m doing this on my own, you and Brendon are just driving me there.”

 

Dallon leaned into the car, getting super close to Spencer. For a moment, Spencer was naive enough to think that Dallon was about to kiss him, but then Dallon reached out and ruffled Spencer’s hair instead. Spencer glared at him, and Dallon smiled back, somehow pulling off charming even though Spencer knew he’d only gotten a few hours of sleep the night before. Dallon ran his hand through Spencer’s hair, fixing it back again. “You’re adorable. The next few days are going to be fun.”

 

“Yeah, I’m really looking forward to it,” Spencer said as dryly as he could. Dallon winked and ducked out of the minivan, leaving Spencer alone to ponder what the hell he was doing. The truth was, Spencer was making this all up as he went. He had no plan, especially once the trip really started and he left Las Vegas for what might be forever. 

 

* * *

 

Ryan showed up with a backpack on her shoulders, a final suitcase in her hand, and a bruise on her cheek. Spencer didn’t know if it had come from her dad or from one of the assholes who harassed her for being trans and openly bisexual, but either way, he knew he’d never let anyone hurt his best friend. Not in Chicago. Not again. 

 

She looked tired. She handed Dallon her suitcase and tossed her backpack onto the other empty seat in the back, and then walked over to Spencer just to drop her head onto his shoulder. Spencer ran his hand through her hair. “Yeah, I know. But we’ll be out of here soon.”

 

“This is way more depressing than I thought it would be,” Ryan said to Spencer’s shoulder. Spencer thought about it, and maybe she was right. Here they were, on the brink of actual adulthood, and instead of being in some super cool band where they had a bunch of fans and people wanting to hang out with them, they’d teamed up with another pair of outcasts and were fleeing from everything they knew. Las Vegas was Spencer’s home, and probably would be his home for a while, but it hadn’t been Ryan’s home for a long time. Sure, she felt at home when she was with Spencer, and at Spencer’s house, but this wasn’t where she belonged. And if Ryan didn’t belong here, then neither did Spencer. 

 

“Brendon should be here in just a minute,” Dallon said. He leaned against the side of the car, his summer tanned skin glowing in the morning light. “I’d ask if you two wanted to go inside and have some breakfast while we waited, but I don’t think that would be the best idea. That, and I’ve already promised Brendon breakfast on the road. He’s insisting on making this into an actual roadtrip.”

 

“It is a real road trip,” Ryan said. She pulled out her phone. “I should probably call Jon and let him know we’re about to leave. Should I go sit on the front steps or is your mom going to be mad at me for even existing?”

 

“Front steps are fine,” Dallon said. Ryan nodded, and walked around to the front of Dallon’s house to go call Jon. Spencer was left alone with Dallon again, and he realised he had no idea what to talk about, or if there was anything to talk about. Dallon opened the passenger seat door of the minivan and sat down on the floor of the car, his legs sticking out like a ramp. He looked up at Spencer. “You can sit in the car, if you want. You don’t have to keep standing around like you’re someone’s weird third cousin who really shouldn’t have been invited to the wedding.”

 

“You have some really specific metaphors,” Spencer said. He walked over and sat down in the open back door floor. He stuck his legs out too, but they didn’t go nearly as far as Dallon’s did. 

 

“I write, sometimes,” Dallon said. Spencer looked over at him--Dallon needed to stop being so pretty because Spencer was sixteen and didn’t have time for this shit--and watched him run his hand through his hair. He pulled at the strands again, and Spencer wondered if that was just a thing he did, pulling at his hair. “When I was at BYU, before someone outed me, I had this idea that I’d be in a band with some guys from school. We had a name and enough members and everything, and we were about to start recording when I got kicked out for being gay.”

 

“That… sucks,” Spencer said, knowing that was a complete understatement. 

 

“Yeah,” Dallon said. “Brendon and I bonded over being harassed over our sexualities.”

 

“Wait, how old are you,” Spencer said. Then, as an afterthought because he didn’t want Dallon to suspect anything, “and Brendon?”

 

“Brendon’s seventeen, I’m twenty-two,” Dallon said. “And before you make the same assumption my parents did when they found out I was hanging out with a high school senior, no, we’re not dating. Or hooking up or anything. I don’t date children.”

 

“Seventeen’s not a child,” Spencer said, rolling his eyes. Dallon was looking at him weirdly. Spencer crossed his arms. “What? It’s not.”

 

“Come back to me in five years and tell me if you think the same,” Dallon said. “It’s a totally different picture on this side of seventeen.”

 

Spencer didn’t believe him. Brendon showed up less than a minute later, and immediately climbed in over Dallon to sit in the passenger seat and wrap his legs around Dallon’s shoulders. Brendon shook his backpack off and dropped it into the space in between the seat and the dashboard. He ran his hands through Dallon’s hair and looked over to where Spencer was watching them. “Hey Spencer.”

 

Spencer dropped his gaze to Dallon, gave him his most judgemental glare. “Hey, Brendon. Ryan’s talking to Jon, but she’ll be back in a moment.”

 

“Cool,” Brendon said, still playing with Dallon’s hair and gently kicking his feet against Dallon’s chest. Dallon stared at Spencer and shook his head slightly. Spencer raised an eyebrow. He didn’t have a problem with Brendon and Dallon being involved, because Brendon was almost an adult, and Dallon wasn’t that much older. The only thing that annoyed Spencer was that Dallon was lying about it. 

 

That, and Spencer still thought Dallon was hot, which would be a problem if Brendon and Dallon were being exclusive. 

 

Ryan came back around from Dallon’s front door. She still had her phone in her hand, but there was a smile on her face and Spencer felt the slightest bit of relief. The bruise right under her eye was still prominent, but it didn’t look as bad now that she had talked to Jon and knew that she’d never have to come back to the place that had made her feel like she didn’t belong. She climbed into the car and slid across to the seat behind the driver, and Spencer got in behind her, kicking his backpack towards the center of the floorspace so that he had room for his legs. He pulled out his phone, but there weren’t any frantic messages from his parents yet. “You remembered your charger, right?”

 

“I’m not an idiot,” Ryan said.

 

“No,” Spencer said, putting his phone back into his pocket as Dallon walked around the car, closing all the doors until he came back around to the driver’s door and got in. “But you forget things all the time, and since we’re not coming back…”

 

“I remembered my phone charger,” Ryan said. “I’m gonna be texting Jon a lot, since we can’t Skype from now until I get to Chicago.”

 

“Separation anxiety, much?” Brendon said from the front seat. 

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Spencer snapped without thinking about it. He was just so used to people giving Ryan shit for literally everything she did that he had forgotten that there weren’t assholes. Sometimes, people teased out of friendship and affection, and not because they were close-minded, backwards assholes. Dallon gave Spencer a look in the rearview mirror as they drove out of the neighbourhood. Spencer slid down into his seat in the back. “Sorry.”

 

“Nah, it’s fine,” Brendon said, and pulled an entire package of Capri Sun out of his backpack. “I need to be told to shut up sometimes. Dallon’s, like, my only friend.”

 

“Spencer’s mine, and he’s overprotective,” Ryan said. She stuck her hand out towards Brendon, the universal sign for Brendon to hand her a Capri Sun. Brendon stared at her hand for a moment, setting up his own Capri Sun. Ryan narrowed her eyes and wiggled her fingers at the box. “Brendon, come on. Are you gonna share those or not?”

 

“We’re about to go get food,” Brendon said, frowning around his straw. “Why do you need a Capri Sun?”

 

“Because I’m thirsty?” Ryan said. “And you have stuff?”

 

“We’re getting IHOP,” Dallon said. He sounded like a dad, which was weird, but it worked, because everyone else in the car agreed and the car fell into a comfortable silence. The silence was almost immediately ended, because Dallon asked Brendon to put on some music, and Brendon reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a photo book filled with various mixtapes and CDs. As Brendon flipped through them, he shook his head. “I forgot how bad your taste in music is. Which one has that Five Hundred Miles song on it?”

 

“The one you made me make,” Dallon said. “I think it’s got  _ Brendon’s Mix _ written on the CD. And then about seven exclamation marks.”

 

“Found it!” Brendon said, pulling out the CD and holding it in the air. He slid it into the CD player, and the car was filled with the sounds of a British man talking about how he would walk a thousand miles for some girl. Weirdly enough, it worked for the situation, considering that Ryan was going at least a thousand miles across the country to be with the guy she liked, Spencer was going to support his friend, and Dallon and Brendon were going because their families didn’t support them being together. 

 

As they pulled into the IHOP, everyone was screaming along to the lyrics. Even after the car had been turned off, and they were crossing the parking lot, they were still singing. Spencer and Ryan were even arm in arm, being ridiculous with each other. It was a weird kind of bonding experience, singing along to cliche 80’s music in a purple minivan on the way to breakfast.

 

* * *

 

August 3, 2004; Cedar Pocket, Littlefield, Arizona.

 

They’d been on the road for maybe two hours, and already Spencer was ready to fight his best friend. He was also bored out of his mind, and was pretty sure he’d heard  _ Jessie’s Girl  _ at least three times at this point. Brendon kept singing along, to literally every song, and even though he had a good voice, Spencer really wanted him to shut up for maybe five minutes. Ryan’s legs were getting everywhere, because her legs were fucking long, and Spencer’s parents still hadn’t started texting him, terrified and worried about where he was. 

 

Spencer considered text them himself, in case they’d skipped the whole “let’s call our son and see where he is” phase and skipped straight to the “panic and assume our child has been kidnapped” phase. He didn’t want to be the one to start the conversation, though, because he figured it would involved a lot of yelling. Spencer kicked at Ryan’s leg, which was stretched out between Spencer’s. “Hey, should I call my parents?”

 

“Yes,” Dallon said from the front seat. 

 

“I wasn’t asking you,” Spencer said. 

 

“I agree with Dallon,” Ryan said. “But, like, wait until we pull over, because I really don’t want to watch that go down. I love your mom and dad, but they also scare me a little with how much they care about you.”

 

“There’s a campground coming up. I can pull over there and you can call your parents?” Dallon suggested. Spencer nodded in agreement, because it looked like everyone else in the car needed to get out for a bit and not be all cramped up together. Dallon pulled off under a metal cover, and he, Brendon, and Ryan headed over to a picnic table far enough away from Spencer to give him some privacy. Spencer grabbed his sunglasses from the pocket of his backpack and put them on before he walked out from under the cover and into the sun. 

 

As soon as he dialled his house phone, he wished he had stayed under the cover. It was ridiculously hot out, and Spencer was squinting even with his sunglasses on. The phone rang multiple times, and Spencer took to kicking the loose rocks on the ground while he waited for one of his parents to pick up. 

 

“Spencer?” His mom’s voice came through the phone. It was staticky, and Spencer realised a little late that pulling off onto a campground to try and call his parents probably wasn’t the smartest idea. “Where are you?”

 

“Um, Arizona, I think,” Spencer said, glancing over his shoulder at Dallon, Ryan, and Brendon. The three of them were seated around the picnic table, and even though they were in the shade, Ryan still had her weird sunglasses on. Spencer smiled, shaking his head a little, and turned back away from his friend and his new companions to talk to his mom. “We’re at a campground right now, just taking a break from driving.”

 

“Spencer.”

 

“I’m moving to Chicago with Ryan, mom, “ Spencer said. “She shouldn’t have to do this whole adulting thing alone.”

 

“Spencer,” his mom said again. Spencer clamped his mouth shut and stopped shuffling his feet, as though his mother was right there with him and could see if he was paying attention to her or not. “I know you’re a smart kid, and you’re pretty mature for your age, but you’re still young. You’re my baby, and the adult world is a lot more dangerous than the books and the movies make it out to be.”

 

“I know, mom,” Spencer said. “And I’m not going to do anything dumb, okay? I’m gonna finish high school in Chicago, and then either go to college or take a gap year to help pay for it. Either way, I’m not doing anything reckless.”

 

There was a pause, and Spencer imagined what the scene would look like if Spencer was standing in his kitchen, suitcase in hand and trying to explain this to his mom before he could even get out of Summerlin, let alone Vegas. She’d be leaning against the counter, probably with a mug of steaming coffee in her hand, and she’d have both of her eyebrows raised and judgemental. And, whenever Spencer finally decided to make eye contact with her, because Spencer knew better to make eye contact with his mom when he wanted to get away with something risky, he’d realise that he’d never make it out, not by telling her the truth. 

 

Spencer wasn’t in his kitchen, though, and his mom wasn’t staring him down over a freshly brewed mug of coffee. He didn’t have to lose this argument, because he’d already gotten out. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and said, “okay, so maybe it was a bit reckless, and maybe I should have done more than leave a tiny sticky note on the coffeepot telling you not to worry about me, but I didn’t want you to stop me. Me and Ryan, we both had a really hard time in school, and I know that she thinks Chicago will be this magical place where she’ll never get shit for being trans, but that’s not how it works. And if Ryan’s going to go through hell, I’m going with her. She’s my best friend, mom, I can’t just let her do this on her own.”

 

“I know, baby, but I’m still worried about you,” she said. “Your father is, too. Whenever you get to Chicago, you should send us the address so we can come up and visit the two of you.”

 

“Okay mom.”

 

“You know that that wasn’t a suggestion, Spencer James,” she said, and Spencer flinched without meaning to. His mom had only called him by his full name once before, and that had been when he and Ryan were just getting into the scene crowd and she’d found out that someone underage had brought alcohol into her basement. No amount of arguing or insisting that neither he nor Ryan were drinking had stopped her, and Spencer had been grounded until the end of the school year. That was the only time in Spencer and Ryan’s friendship where Ryan hadn’t been allowed back to Spencer’s room, too, and that was by far the worst part. 

 

“I know, mom,” Spencer said, less sarcastic now that he knew his mom wasn’t fucking around.

 

“If I don’t get an address in the next week, I’m filing a police report saying my son got kidnapped and I will have the entire SWAT team and FBI come down on the city of Chicago to drag you back down here,” she said. “I love you, I trust you, but I also want to know you’re safe. I can’t do that if I don’t know where you are.”

 

“I’ll tell you, mom, I promise,” Spencer said. “I think we’re supposed to get there on the sixth, but I might not be able to tell you until the seventh.”

 

“Just call as soon as possible,” she said. “And tell Ryan to call me too, whenever she’s able. I care about her too, in case she’s forgotten.”

 

“I’ll tell her,” Spencer said. He paused, wiping sweat from his face and deciding that he hated this campground for being out in the fucking desert. “Bye, mom. We should probably get back on the road.”

 

“Be safe,” she said. “And remember, your dad and I love you very much.”

 

“Me too, mom. I love you guys too,” Spencer said, and finished the call. It was a lot less stressful than he had expected, but he still needed a moment to just stand out in the desert sun and register everything that had happened. His parents weren’t mad, so far as he could tell, but now his mom was paranoid that Spencer was about to get in over his head and not know how to get out of it. Spencer would prove her wrong, though. Not in a mean way, but just by successfully finishing high school in Chicago, with his best friend, two runaway gay Mormons, and his best friend’s internet boyfriend. 

 

Spencer snapped his phone shut and put it back in his pocket, and then walked back over to the picnic table and the minivan. His feet made loud crunching noises as he walked over the gravel. The air was completely still. 

 

Ryan looked up as Spencer slid in next to her. “How’d it go?”

 

“Mom said to call her when you got the chance,” Spencer said. “Apparently they’re both more worried about us than they are mad that I left without telling them.”

 

“You left without telling your parents?” Brendon asked, looking genuinely scandalised. Beside him, Dallon rolled his eyes. Spencer wondered if there was something that the two of them weren’t sharing. 

 

He didn’t pry. “I left a note. But, yeah, I didn’t get their permission to go across the country with two strangers. Speaking of going across the country, we should probably get back on the road again, because it’s hot out here and there isn’t really anything to do.”

 

“True,” Dallon said. “I’d like to get to Colorado by tonight.”

 

“We’re going through the entirety of Utah in one day?” Brendon exclaimed, getting up from the table and following Dallon back over to the car. Spencer and Ryan made eye contact through their sunglasses, and Ryan made a face. She was just as entertained by Dallon and Brendon’s relationship as Spencer was, thought probably without the low boiling jealously. Brendon yelled to ask if Spencer and Ryan were going to get in the car, and Ryan responded with an affirmative before standing up and untangling herself from the table. Spencer followed, circling around to the other side of the car so that he wouldn’t have to climb over Ryan to get to his seat. 

 

Dallon turned the car on, the engine complaining that it had to start working again, and Brendon changed the CD to something new. Spencer knew it would be some kind of 80’s track, because that was apparently all Dallon had in his collection, but when Jessie’s Girl came on again, Spencer rubbed his hand across his face and let out a noise of exasperation. “I’m so tired of this song.”

 

“I know,” Brendon said. He pulled out another Capri Sun, ripped the straw out of it’s wrapper with his mouth, and stabbed it into the pouch. He spat out the wrapper and then retrieved it from the floor when Dallon gave him a look. Brendon took a long sip from the pouch and dropped his sunglasses down from his forehead to his nose. “That’s why we’re playing it again. 

 

Spencer sighed, rolled his eyes, and slumped down as far as he could in the backseat without being in an unsafe position. Ryan snickered from behind whatever book she was reading through. Spencer glared at her. “Thanks, Ry.”

 

“What?” Ryan said. “The song fits you.”

 

_ I play along with the charade _

_ That doesn't seem to be a reason to change _

_ You know I feel so dirty when they start talking cute _

_ I wanna tell her that I love her but the point is probably moot _

 

_ 'Cause she's watching him with those eyes _

_ And she's lovin' him with that body, I just know it! _

_ And he's holding her in his arms late, late at night _

 

_ You know I wish that I had Jessie's girl _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this, and please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed it! Also, feel free to say hi to me on tumblr (@brallencer)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dallon's backstory, and some relationships start to evolve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, while on a bus back from voting (for Clinton, because I didn't want my friends to die): what if I gave Dallon a tragic backstory in this fic?
> 
> Here's the beginning of this backstory. It's not tragic, yet.

**August 3, 2004; Salina, Utah.**

 

They stopped at a pizza place for lunch, since it was a little after one in the afternoon and they were all starting to get hungry. Dallon dropped Brendon and Spencer off at the pizzeria, and he and Ryan headed off to get gas. Ryan, apparently, trusted Spencer to order her something. Spencer knew what kinds of things Ryan liked on pizza, so Ryan wasn’t being ridiculous about staying with Dallon. Spencer just didn’t know why she was choosing getting gas over getting food. 

 

“So, you and Ryan are really close,” Brendon said after they’d put in their orders and were sitting across from each other in a booth near the entrance to the restaurant. “Did you two ever date?”

 

“We never even thought about it,” Spencer said. “It would be weird. We were always just friends, even though a lot of kids in school thought that we were together. I guess it’s the whole thing about how a guy and a girl can never just be friends.”

 

“Huh,” Brendon said. “How’d you even become friends?”

 

“Ryan and her dad lived a few houses down from my grandparents, so when my mom and dad moved to Vegas with me and my sisters--who were babies--I kinda got forced into playdates with the girl down the street. And then it turned out that we got along really well with each other, and so we just kept hanging out, and my parents never made Ryan stay out of my room or anything,” Spencer said. He had no idea why Brendon even cared, but he’d humour the guy. He’d have to deal with Brendon for a while, since Brendon and Dallon were most likely going to become Jon, Ryan, and his roommates in Chicago. Spencer leaned back in the booth, careful not to let his feet get anywhere near Brendon’s. “How’d you and Dallon meet, anyway?”

 

“It’s a long story, really,” Brendon said, looking a little nervous. Spencer narrowed his eyes. “We’ve got time, right? And it’s not like Dallon would care, right? I mean, you two had to have met somehow?”

 

“We met at a church group,” Brendon said. “It was for people who had strayed away from God’s path. Kinda like those conversion camps you hear about on the news, but with less of the terrible things that go on there. It’s just a lot of praying, and being told that everything you are and everything you use to identify yourself is a lie and is going to send you straight to hell, no take backs.”

 

Spencer stared at Brendon. “Oh. That’s… I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t apologise to me; I wasn’t that affected by it,” Brendon said. He didn’t explain any more, and Spencer could tell that the whole conversation was starting to make Brendon uncomfortable, so he didn’t push. Instead, he asked Brendon if he had any weird stories about Dallon, because Brendon didn’t seem to have a problem talking about Dallon, just talking about how they’d met. 

 

Honestly, if Spencer had met Ryan at some pray the gay away thing, he wouldn’t want to talk about it much either. 

 

* * *

 

**January 15, 2003; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

Dallon tugged on the sleeves of his jacket as he walked from his mother’s car to the doors of the church. The only good thing about this was that neither of his parents would be in there with him. If he had to talk about the things he’d done in college, with men who had no real faces, at least he wouldn’t have to see the look of shame his mother would give him. At least he had that on his side. 

 

Dallon pushed the door open, and was greeted with warm golds and dark reds. The church’s interior was way too welcoming. Dallon felt a little sick to his stomach, but he kept walking, his sneakers silent against the outdated carpet. He found the room easily enough, but he hesitated outside of the door. He didn’t know what, or who would be on the other side. Sure, he knew that the people in there would all be somewhere between fifteen and thirty, aside from the two people--one guy, one girl--leading it, but that didn’t narrow anything down. 

 

What if there were pedophiles in there, lumped in with people like Dallon, who just liked the feel of a man’s hands and the scrape of his beard over the softness of a girl? What if Dallon had to sit next to some twenty-something creep who liked to stick his hands down little girls’ pants?

 

Dallon opened the door. He had no other choice. His parents would just keep forcing him to go until he proved to them that he no longer enjoyed intimacy with another man. Dallon had no idea how he could do that, when he knew that his attraction to guys was out of his control. He walked into that room anyway, and ignored all the saddened people looking at him. He headed to an empty chair between a freckly, twitchy guy who looked a few years older than Dallon and a girl with a square jaw and determined eyebrows. 

 

Up until that day, Dallon had no idea that a person’s eyebrows could be determined. Her’s were. If Dallon liked women, he’d like her. 

 

* * *

 

**January 29, 2003; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

It snowed that morning, but by the time the meeting started at five that evening, the snow had all melted away and Dallon was stuck living in the cold misery that was Las Vegas in the wintertime. He missed Provo. He missed being just another guy at college, working on a degree with other people his age and then going off to Salt Lake City during the weekend and kissing guys in bars. He rarely had sex with strangers, because he had still been figuring out where the church’s opinions ended and his began. That era of his life was over, apparently, and he was reminded of that with every fake portrait of the twelve disciples he passed on his way to the meeting room. 

 

He sat beside the same girl as before, but there was a different person to his left this time. She was younger, probably in high school, and she’d shaved off half of her hair. She frightened Dallon a little, with how angry she looked to be in this room. 

 

The meeting started with one of the leaders (their names were Margaret and Martin, and Dallon thought it would be funny if they were married, considering how similar their names were) saying a prayer. The prayer was usually asking God to relieve Dallon and the others of their sins, and to help them all find their way back to the path or righteousness again. Dallon, for one, didn’t hate the idea. He just hated the execution, and the implication that it was him being attracted to men that was keeping him out of heaven. If anything, it would be the whole sex before marriage part of his college adventures. But no one seemed to care about that. They just cared that Dallon had been caught kissing another man, and that he was apparently going straight to hell unless he renounced men entirely. 

 

“Would anyone like to come forward with their stories?” Martin asked. He was a short little man, in his mid-forties, and he reminded Dallon of those dad chaperones who tried way too hard to be one of the cool parents on a church trip. “If you want to be welcomed into the kingdom of God, you must first admit your sins and be forgiven.”

 

“I don’t have any sins,” the woman with determined eyebrows said. Her voice was way deeper than Dallon had expected, and it startled him when she spoke. “Well, I’m sure I do, but nothing that would warrant me being here. I’ve never harmed another person, or molested a child, or cheated on my partner. I’m not a bad person.”

 

“What is your name, again?” Margaret asked, flipping the pages on her clipboard. Margaret was older than Martin, with silver hairs sprinkled into her brown-black bob like Christmas tinsel. 

 

“Breezy,” she said, and now Dallon had a name to put with a face. “Breezy Douglas.”

 

“Your real name, Mr. Douglas,” Margaret said. Dallon noticed Breezy physically recoil, but she didn’t correct Margaret. Dallon didn’t understand; it was obvious that Breezy wasn’t a Mr. Douglas. She was a woman. She was dressed up in a scarf and deep purple sweater, she had breasts, and she was wearing heels with little boots. She was wearing makeup, too, and it was so well done that Dallon knew it must have taken her an hour to get it that perfect. She was no man. 

 

Breezy swallowed, untucking her hair from behind her ear so that it covered her jawline. “That is my real name. That’s who I am.”

 

“Mr. Douglas, you are eventually going to have to renounce your wrongful ways,” Margaret said, and Martin was nodding along in agreement. “God will never accept you into His kingdom if you keep lying about who you are. You’re not a woman, and all you’re doing by pretending to be one is hurt those who care about you. And most of all, you’re hurting God. He created you in his image, and what you’ve done to your body is ruining that perfect image.”

 

Dallon felt sick to his stomach again. Breezy was a trans woman, then, if what Martin and Margaret were saying was true. He couldn’t stay in that room. He couldn’t sit there and let people decide what was okay and what wasn’t. It didn’t matter that he’d be kicked out of his parents’ house if he stopped going to these meetings. It didn’t matter that he was still gay, had still thought about asking out that guy he’d seen in the grocery store a few times since coming home. 

 

Dallon stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. His Converse lost traction against the smooth wood flooring for a second, and he floundered. Dallon ignored Martin asking him where he was going, and telling him to sit down. He bolted out the door, letting it slam behind him, and then he ran to the nearest bathroom. There was a sign on the back of the door, something about how God loved everyone, and Dallon took a moment to stare at the sign and wonder if it was sure of it’s own meaning or not. He reached out and pressed his first two fingers against the glass pane shielding the sign from andy damage. “Are you sure about that? Or are we all praying to the wrong version of God?”

 

There wasn’t an answer. Dallon hadn’t expected one, not from a piece of paper in a men’s bathroom. He’d have to look elsewhere for answers. 

 

* * *

 

**February 5, 2003; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

Breezy was still there, sitting in her usual chair when Dallon came in for the first Wednesday meeting of February. He walked in, not making eye contact with anyone, and sat down next to her. He’d stayed in the bathroom all through the last meeting, but the leaders hadn’t mentioned anything to his parents about it. Dallon felt weird, still being under his parents control. He was twenty years old. He’d been to college. He wasn’t a child anymore, but because he’d gotten caught with a man, he was back under the careful eye of his mother and the stern glare of his father. 

 

He didn’t look at Breezy, even though he could feel her eyes on him. Martin started the session off with a prayer. Margaret asked everyone to go around and say their names, since there were a lot of new faces now and it was apparently important for everyone to know the names of their fellow sinners. Dallon didn’t see the point. It wasn’t like he’d be hanging out with these people once he convinced his parents that he was no longer gay. 

 

“My name is Breezy Douglas,” Breezy said. She was just as stubborn this time, raising her chin when both Martin and Margaret frowned at her. “I’m twenty-one, and originally from Los Angeles. My family moved here when I was sixteen.”

 

“I’m Dallon,” Dallon said, before either of the leaders could chastise Breezy for not using her guy name. Dallon didn’t fully understand transgender people; he’d seen some in Salt Lake City, wandering in and out of some of the seedier gay bars he visited, but he’d never spoken to one before. “I’m twenty, and I’ve lived here my whole life, except for when I was in Oklahoma for a year and in college for a year and a half.”

 

He didn’t mention that Oklahoma was his mission. It wasn’t the best time of his life, and he was just fine never talking about it again. He might have enjoyed it more if the guy he’d been assigned to wasn’t such a shut-in, but he had been a shut-in, and so Dallon had no good memories of Oklahoma. 

 

The rest of the people there introduced themselves, and then Martin and Margaret started pushing for people to confess their sins. Something about how they could only be fixed and free if they confessed. Dallon didn’t think it worked quite like that. Someone, a guy with a beard who looked every bit the pedophile he was, started talking about how he touched his younger cousins when they came over. He started out with this blissed out look on his face, and Dallon was disgusted with him, wanted to punch the look right off his face, but then Martin and Margaret started berating him for being disgusting and destined for hell. 

 

They started yelling, and eventually the disgusting pedophile started to cry, and Dallon felt this weird, heavy satisfaction settle in his chest. 

 

The pedophile was the only one who got attacked that meeting, and it ended with another prayer, hoping that the pedophile would change his ways and no longer desire to touch his younger cousins. While everyone else prayed what Margaret and Martin were making up, repeating line after line back to them, Dallon thought out his own prayer. He kept it in his mind, though, and bowed his own head so that Margaret and Martin couldn’t see that he wasn’t paying attention. 

 

_ God: _

 

_ Strike this disgusting piece of filth down with a bolt of lightning. He deserves to die, what with all the disgusting things he did to those girls. They were what, ten, twelve years old? This--pardon my French--fucking assholse raped literal children. Let him die. Let him suffer in the most painful way you can imagine.  _

 

_ And, you know, if you can, please let me know what to do about Breezy. She doesn’t seem like a bad person, but I don’t know anything about trans people, and I don’t think she should have to suffer through all of this if there’s nothing wrong with her.  _

 

_ Thanks, _

_ -Dallon _

 

He always formatted his prayers like they were letters, because he didn’t care for the formalities that he’d been taught in church. God didn’t seem like too uptight of a guy, and at least Dallon signed off his prayers politely. He’d heard of people calling God “dude” and “buddy,” and that just seemed too casual for a prayer. 

 

As the meeting was adjourned, Dallon grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and headed towards the door. He was halfway down the hall before he felt someone’s hand on his arm, stopping him in his track. Dallon turned around, and Breezy was there, looking up at him with a questioning look on her face. She still looked ready to fight, in case Dallon turned out to be an asshole. “Why’d you walk out last time, when they made me use my birth name?”

 

“I don’t know,” Dallon said. He really didn’t. He just knew, in that moment, that if he stayed he’d do something he’d regret. He didn’t know if that action would be against Breezy, one of the leaders, or someone else entirely. “I’ve never met a transgender person before.”

 

“And I’ve never met someone who’s been to Oklahoma,” Breezy said. She crossed her arms over her chest. “But I don’t make a big deal about it, because it’s not that much of a deal.”

 

“Right,” Dallon said. “Is being transgender not a big deal, then?”

 

“It shouldn’t be,” Breezy said. “But it is. And my parents are some of the people who think it’s a big deal, and that I’m essentially ruining my life by doing this. So, before I start sympathising with you and you turn out to be some weirdo who jerks off to animals or something like that, what brings you here, Dallon Weekes?”

 

“I’m a gay Mormon,” Dallon said. A grin spread across Breezy’s face. “That’s an interesting combination. Are you doing anything after this? I don’t have to be anywhere for another few hours, and I drove myself today because my dad finally trusts me not to skip it. If you want to go get coffee, or dinner or whatever it is you Mormons do when not keeping a stick wedged up your ass, that’d be cool.”

 

“I don’t keep a stick wedged up my ass,” Dallon said. “And, I’d love to go hang out, but my mom’s probably waiting in the parking lot to go take me home and constantly monitor me for the next week. She doesn’t trust me not to go and have sex with a guy if she’s not watching. It’s kind of ridiculous.”

 

“Are you free any other time of the week?” She asked. 

 

“As free as a guy still living with his parents can be, yeah,” Dallon said. “When do you want to hang out, and where? I can probably borrow a car if I ask nicely and say I’m going to meet a girl.”

 

“What, your parents aren’t going to ask to meet me first?” Breezy said, putting a hand on her hip. Dallon shook his head. His parents would probably be too excited that he was hanging out with a girl to care about the details. He and Breezy decided on a date (Friday) and a place (Hedary’s Mediterranean), and then parted ways with a promise to be there around noon. It was only after Dallon had gotten into the passenger seat and started answering his mom’s questions about how the meeting had gone that Dallon realised he had no way to contact Breezy if his parents decided he couldn’t go. 

 

* * *

 

**August 3, 2004; Salina, Utah.**

 

“Oh, nice, I didn’t even know you liked pineapple on pizza,” Dallon said. He slid in beside Brendon, and Spencer bit back something about them acting like a married couple. If they wanted to pretend that their relationship was a secret from everyone, then Spencer could indulge them. Ryan slid in beside Spencer, elbowing him to get him to give her more room in the booth. 

 

“Of course I like pineapple,” Brendon rolled his eyes and pulled off a single slice. “What kind of heathen do you take me for?”

 

“Pineapples shouldn’t be on pizza,” Ryan said. She grabbed a slice of pepperoni from the pizza that Spencer had ordered for the two of them, and bit into it before realising that it was fresh from the oven and still a little too hot. She swallowed anyway, because Ryan was stubborn and refused to let some hot pizza get the better of her. “Spencer agrees, right?”

 

“I’ve never had pineapple on pizza,” Spencer said. “I don’t have an opinion.”

 

“Wow, okay,” Ryan said. “So much for friendship.”

 

“I’m being honest!” Spencer said. He was also trying to not look at either Brendon or Dallon. Brendon hadn’t gotten too far into Dallon’s backstory--he hadn’t even gotten to where they met--but it was enough that Spencer was genuinely intrigued. He wanted to know more, but he didn’t know how to ask Brendon for more without seeming way too interested in Dallon. And Spencer was interested in Dallon, but he didn’t want to admit it, because he knew the feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated. Dallon had made that obvious, both when he said he didn’t date high schoolers (for whatever reason) and it turned out that he was actually dating Brendon. 

 

Spencer knew his growing crush was pointless. It wasn’t going to stop him from being interested in Dallon, though. It would just make him act less obvious about it. 

 

“Well, Ryan’s wrong, and pineapple is the best thing to have on pizza,” Brendon said. As if to prove his point, he grabbed a slice of his pizza and took a huge bite out of it. Brendon and Dallon’s pizza had gotten to the table a few minutes before Ryan and Spencer’s, and so it had had enough time to cool off. 

 

Spencer watched Dallon while the four of them ate, but he did it in a way that wasn't super obvious. He didn't want Ryan to pick up on how much attention he was giving their driver. Dallon hadn’t mentioned anything about being forced to act straight, but that did explain why his parents had given him a date to leave by. Obviously, something had happened during those meetings, either with Breezy or Brendon (Spencer assumed that Brendon would show up at some point, since he too was a gay Mormon kid), and it had made Dallon’s sexuality a major issue again. Spencer wanted to know what it was. He wanted to know everything about Dallon, because the more he found out about the guy, the more he realised was left to uncover. 

 

They finished their pizzas, leaving only a few slices behind. If someone had thought ahead enough to bring a cooler, they could have taken the slices to go and eaten them later, but no one in their group thought that through enough. They left the leftovers and headed back to the minivan, which had been parked out in the sun and would be incredibly hot when they got into it. Spencer braced himself for the stifling interior that wouldn’t leave for a while, definitely not until they were back out onto I-70. 

 

He was right, and he was also greeted with the sounds of the Rolling Stones, who weren’t really an 80’s band. Spencer wasn’t going to complain, because the Stones were pretty good, even though the song wasn’t one of their most popular ones. 

 

“Jesus, this car is hot,” Ryan said. She’d stretched herself out on her side of the car, sunglasses slipping down her nose. Spencer stared at her, raising one eyebrow and silently asking  _ what did you expect? _ Ryan pushed her sunglasses back up her nose. “You’re doing okay, though, right Spencer?”

 

“Yeah, why?”

 

“Just, you’re still wearing a binder,” she said, and even behind her sunglasses, Spencer could see her gaze flick to the front seats. Like it was taboo to remind the car that Spencer was trans too. Like they’d forgotten they were travelling with two weird kids, and not just one. Spencer didn’t care. From what he knew about Dallon’s backstory, told by Brendon, Dallon had no qualms with transgender people. Brendon probably didn’t, either, if he was calling Breezy by her name and not whatever birthname her parents had given her. 

 

“I’m fine, Ryan,” Spencer said. He knew he wasn’t supposed to wear his binder for more than eight hours, even though he’d been wearing it since the night before. Sure, his chest felt a little tight, but that was probably more from the sweat and being out in the heat all the time. He’d take it off as soon as they checked into whatever motel they were staying in for the night. 

 

Ryan frowned. “I just don’t want you to be unable to breathe or anything.”

 

“I’ll be fine,” Spencer said again. “I promise. I’ll let you know if that changes.”

 

“Alright,” Ryan said. She didn’t look entirely convinced, but it wasn’t Spencer’s fault if she didn’t think he could take care of himself. Between the two of them, Ryan was the more likely one to get into trouble. Ryan was the one more likely to forget to take care of herself if not prompted to do so. Spencer was good at not dying. Ryan, as much as Spencer cared about her, was a real trainwreck sometimes. 

 

“Wait, so you’re wearing something that can make you stop breathing?” Brendon turned around in his seat. He ignored when Dallon made a face and told him to turn back around. “Isn’t that, like, super dangerous? What does it even do?”

 

“Flattens my chest,” Spencer said. It was weird, talking about trans things with someone who wasn’t trans. Sure, Spencer’s parents and his sisters knew about it, and occasionally one of them asked him questions about how it all worked, but they were his family. He was used to them asking him invasive questions about his life and body. And Ryan was trans too, even though she was going in the opposite direction, gender-wise, from Spencer. She didn’t always know what was going on in Spencer’s head, but she could at least understand. It was going on in her head, too. Brendon, on the other hand, had no idea what it was like to stare in the mirror and see someone who wasn’t supposed to be there. 

 

Brendon nodded in approval. “Cool. So, like, is it an undershirt or something?”

 

“I think it’s like Spandex, except for your chest,” Spencer said. He really didn't know. He just knew that it made his chest look flat, and he wasn't supposed to have it on for this long without switching to a sports bra or something else. Spencer didn't mention that to the car. They didn't need to know that he was being risky. Spencer tapped his knuckles against the side of the car. “Hey, how long until we get to wherever we're stopping for the night?”

 

“I think it's about three hours from Salina to Grand Junction,” Dallon said. “So, assuming there isn't a bunch of traffic--which there shouldn't be--we'll get there a little after five.”

 

“Cool,” Spencer said. He just had to keep his binder on until five, then. He settled into his seat and closed his eyes. There wasn’t much to see outside, anyway. It was just mountains, and cliffs and the desert and shit. Spencer figured the view would get more interesting once they got into the Rocky Mountains, because mountains always looked cool and Spencer had seen some great photos from out in the Rockies. 

 

He fell asleep, and must have slept through the next few hours, because when he woke up again, they were in an urban area that Spencer assumed was Grand Junction. He’d never been there before. His parents had moved from Denver to Las Vegas when Spencer was three, and so any memories he had of the original move were vague and probably wrong, anyway. He sat up in his seat, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Are we there yet?”

 

“By there do you mean Chicago, or where we’re taking a break for the night?” Dallon asked. He looked exhausted. It figured; he’d been driving almost non-stop since nine that morning, and Spencer knew he hadn’t slept well the night before. 

 

“The second one,” Spencer said. 

 

“Then, yes, we’re here,” Dallon said. “And as soon as we get a motel room, I’m going to pass out, but you three are welcome to go and do whatever you want. Brendon has a license. He can drive if you need him to.”

 

Spencer didn’t know where exactly Dallon thought the three of them would go, but he didn’t mention that. If Dallon wanted to sleep, Spencer would let him. Of the four, Dallon needed it the most. Apparently, he was doing all of the driving, which seemed like a pain in the ass. It wasn’t like Ryan or Brendon couldn’t drive; they both had their licences. Maybe Brendon was a really bad driver, and Dallon didn’t trust him behind the wheel. Spencer knew Ryan wasn’t the best driver either, but that was because she was constantly holding the wheel too tightly, sure that the car in the other lane would swerve over and hit her, causing her and anyone else in the vehicle (usually Spencer) to get into an accident. 

 

Maybe Brendon was the kind of driver who swerved all the time. Maybe Brendon was the reason Ryan felt the need to hold her steering wheel too tight. 

 

They drove around for a while, searching for the motel Dallon had found online before leaving Summerlin. Apparently, some time before Spencer got involved in all of this, Dallon and Ryan had sat down together and done all of the adulty things that were needed to make this roadtrip work. Which meant that Ryan was helping to pay for the hotel rooms. Spencer had no idea where she’d gotten the money from, and he was a little afraid to ask. What if it was something he was better off not knowing about?

 

Eventually, they found the place, a small motel on the corner of two streets called the Columbine Motel. Spencer didn’t comment on the name. Dallon got out of the minivan first, and headed to the office to get the keys. By then, the air had started to cool, and the temperature outside was a bearable warm. Spencer opened the side door and stretched out, letting his legs dangle out over the edge of the car. He could see the office from this position, and if he concentrated, he could see Dallon inside, talking to the person behind the desk. 

 

“So, what’s everyone’s plans for the night?” Brendon asked, after a minute of silence. 

 

“Skype Jon, update my followers on what I’m doing so they know I haven’t been kidnapped or anything,” Ryan said. “But if you two want to go out somewhere and have fun on your own, don’t let me hold you back. I’m just not much for exploring.”

 

Spencer kicked his feet against the side of the car. Ryan used to be up for exploring, and going out after dark even though Spencer’s mom told them not to stay out too late. That, of course, was back when Ryan was still in the closet, only out to Spencer. Ryan had been the first to figure it out, the whole being trans thing. She’d been fourteen, scared shitless, and hiding out by the trailers at school. Spencer had found her, had talked her through it, and even though he had had no idea what any of it meant at the time, he knew he’d never leave his best friend. 

 

Spencer had come to his own gender realisation a mere month before Ryan got outed to the entire school. He hadn’t even mentioned it to Ryan before outing himself to everyone. If Ryan was being outed, Spencer was going with her. The world should have known by then, that if it got one of them, it got the other. 

 

They were a pair, always had been. It was a little weird, seeing Ryan doing her own thing and not asking Spencer to come along, even if he’d just be hanging around by her side the entire time. Spencer wondered if it meant that their friendship was coming to an end, or if there was just no need for them to be so codependent anymore, now that Ryan was getting out of Las Vegas and her shitty relationship with her dad. And Spencer was getting away, too. Just, not from anything as bad as what Ryan had had to deal with. 

 

“Hey, Spence, you still with us?” Ryan asked, tapping Spencer’s shoulder with her bony fingers. Spencer turned around, flicking his hair away from his face. Now that it was shorter, it seemed to fall into his eyes even more than before. 

 

“Sorry, I spaced out,” Spencer said. “What’d you ask?”

 

“Oh, Brendon just wanted to know if you wanted to go anywhere in particular while Dallon and I were doing our own things,” Ryan said. She glanced over to Brendon, and Spencer followed her gaze. Brendon was draped over the back of the passenger seat, grinning lazily at Spencer, and Spencer finally saw whatever it was that had made Dallon choose Brendon over someone else. Brendon, in the early sunset, was actually a little cute. 

 

Spencer needed to stop being so gay for guys who would never look twice at him. He should have appreciated Haley while he had the chance. 

 

He pulled his legs back into the car. “I’m cool with just driving around. I’ve never been here before, so I don’t know anywhere to go.”

 

“Cool,” Brendon said, and slid down so that his chin was hooked over the seat and the rest of his body was hidden by it. “Dallon’s coming back, by the way. You guys should go grab whatever you want from the trunk so that we can move into the motel room and then me and Spencer can go on a real adventure. “

 

“You’re not the boss of me,” Spencer said. There wasn’t any bite behind it, and he slid out of the back seat, grabbing his backpack on his way out. He and Ryan went around to the trunk and threw open the door together, totally in sync with each other. It was like they were a pair of synchronised swimmers, except they were out of the water and they also weren’t wearing weird little costumes and ugly swim caps. Spencer pulled out his one suitcase, and Ryan pulled out a duffel, throwing it over her shoulder just as Dallon came up behind them with the keys in his hand. “They only had two, so I’ll let the three of you figure out who’s getting what.”

 

“If you’re going to be in the room, then I can get one and Spencer or Brendon can take the other,” Ryan said. “I’m just going to be in the office, since they’ve got wifi and a computer where I can Skype.”

 

Dallon raised an eyebrow. It was unfortunate, how hot he looked when he did that. “You’re not going out with Spencer and Brendon?”

 

“Nah, not up to it,” Ryan said. Spencer could tell that that was it; she really did just want to talk to her boyfriend and chill at the motel for a bit. There was nothing else that was bothering her. 

 

The four headed up to the motel room on the second floor and dropped their things. In the end, Brendon got the room key, because he didn’t know Spencer too well, and if Spencer wandered off or wanted to head back to the motel early, he could always borrow Ryan’s key to get in. Spencer didn’t agree with Brendon’s logic entirely, but he didn’t argue. He just wanted to get moving, because the longer he stood still in the door to the motel, the closer he got to falling back asleep. He was incredibly tired. He needed something to do, just to stay awake for a little longer. 

 

The three teens split at the bottom of the stairs, Ryan heading over to the office with her phone in her hand and her back pack over one shoulder, and Brendon and Spencer heading over to where the van was parked in the middle of the parking lot. There was a little pavilion in some grass, with two trees blocking it in away from the highway. For a moment, Spencer considered staying there, and getting to know Brendon better, but Brendon was already beside the minivan, jumping on his toes. “Come on, Spence, let’s drive.”

 

“You better not be a shitty driver,” Spencer warned as he got into the passenger seat. 

 

Brendon grinned. “I’m an amazing driver. Where do you want to go?”

 

“Like I said, I don’t really know anywhere around here,” Spencer said, running his hands over the dashboard. It hadn’t been cleaned in a while. “But, if you wanna just drive and tell me more about you and Dallon and how you met, that’d be cool. It was an interesting story, even though you never showed up.”

 

“That’s because you have to know who Breezy is and how she and Dallon met if you want to know how I play into it,” Brendon said. He threw a wink at Spencer, and for a moment, Spencer was afraid that Brendon hadn’t caught onto Spencer being a trans guy yet. What if Brendon thought that Spencer was just a weird lesbian who wore binders to be butch? What if he didn’t get the whole transgender guy thing, and only understood that transgender girls existed because Dallon had once known one named Breezy Douglas?

 

“I’m a guy, by the way,” Spencer said. “A trans guy, but still. I’m not some girl.”

 

“I know,” Brendon said, and sped up, Grand Junction speeding by them in a blur as Brendon drove down the street. “So, do you want the story or not?”

 

“Duh,” Spencer said. He always wanted the story. Maybe, if Brendon bothered to ask, Spencer would tell his and Ryan’s story. It was a long one, and there wasn’t some mysterious third party that had brought them together one fateful day, but it was still pretty good. At least in Spencer’s mind. 

 

* * *

 

**February 7, 2003; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

“Is it a date?” His mother asked. Dallon considered lying, because it might make his mother look at him like he was her son again. He couldn’t do that to Breezy, though. He couldn’t just turn her into a lie to appease two people who would never accept the truth. Dallon… he wasn’t better than that, but he knew better than to do that. His parents had instilled good morals in him, if nothing else. 

 

Dallon shook his head, and dug farther into his closet. “No, ma, I’m just meeting a friend for lunch. And she just happens to be a girl.”

 

“Well, you should try dating,” she said. She was standing in the doorway to what used to be his and his brother’s room, but was now just his. His brother had made it out of the house as an upright, heterosexual Mormon man, and had gotten married two weeks after Dallon got expelled. Dallon had not been invited to the wedding. His brother hadn’t even looked at him while taking all of his things from their spare room. 

 

“Maybe,” Dallon said, and considered his white and black baseball tee. 

 

“It might help,” she continued. “With your… with your infidelities.”

 

Dallon closed his eyes. He was glad he was facing away from his mother. He really didn’t want to have to make eye contact with her while she passive aggressively reminded him that he was a failure in her eyes and in the eyes of her God. 

 

“The homosexuality, Dallon,” she said. “You should start seeing women. It will help you get rid of your impure thoughts.”

 

“Ma, I’m going to be late, and I haven’t even changed yet,” Dallon said. He yanked a random pair of jeans from one of the coat hangers. All of his jeans looked the same, anyway. It’s not like it mattered. It’s not like Breezy would judge him. “Can we not talk about this now? I don’t want to make a bad impression.”

 

“Well, she’s already heard about the disgusting things you got up to when you left this house, so I don’t see how you could ruin your image further,” his mom said. Dallon turned around, unable to hide the frustration on his face. His mother let out a loud sigh, and put her hands on her hips. “But, if you don’t want to hear the truth, you won’t hear it. Have fun with your friend.”

 

The way she said “friend” made Dallon want to call his lunch with Breezy off, go to the nearest gay bar, and fuck the first man he found who wasn’t appalling to look at. He didn’t, though, because that would only get him in trouble, and it would probably cost him his first friend since leaving college. Dallon didn’t want to be friendless any longer. This whole pretending not to be gay thing was starting to drain him. He needed someone to vent to. He needed someone who could be just as angry about it as he was. He needed a Breezy. 

 

His mother left him alone, and Dallon changed his clothes. He grabbed his wallet from the bedside table (his brother’s twin bed had been donated back in January), stuffed it and his phone into seperate pockets of his jeans, and headed to the garage. There, in all it’s ugly glory, was the van. 

 

The Brobecks van. 

 

The Brobecks, of course, had been the name of the band Dallon was in, back before everything went wrong and Dallon found himself repacking all of his things--except his bass, which his father claimed was an instrument of sin--and piling them into the back of the minivan. Dallon was the one with his name on the papers for that car, and even though it was ugly and garish as hell, he still loved it. He’d made too many memories in that thing to see it as anything but perfect. 

 

One day, it might even get him out of Las Vegas for good, and not just three semesters of college. For now, though, it just had to get him to Hedary’s so that he could get to know Breezy some more. 

 

He got there a few minutes late, and spotted Breezy sitting in a booth in the back. She looked uneasy, all alone and out in the open like that. Her chin was still raised high and defiant, and Dallon let a smile slide onto his face as he approached her. He slid into the seat across from her, careful not to knock his long legs against hers. “Fancy meeting you here.”

 

“You’re quite the charmer for someone who doesn’t even like women,” Breezy said. She had a glass of water, and sipped from the straw, leaving behind a circle of dark mauve lipstick on the end. “Do you want to order, or did you want to chat a bit, first?”

 

“Whichever you prefer,” Dallon said. He was hungry, sure, but he came here for the company before the food. Breezy ended up choosing for them, asking for a menu the next time someone came by their table. As the two looked over their menus, Breezy asked Dallon about himself. It started out with basic things, like what he’d been doing before he got caught being gay, if he had plans for the future, stuff like that. Dallon answered as honestly as he could, but he didn’t have very good answers for her. After getting kicked out of college, he’d lost his bandmates, his instrument, and his only real chance of doing something interesting with his life. He twirled his straw around aimlessly, listening to the ice clink around in the glass. “I don’t know what I’m going, you know? The band was really the only thing I had going for me. I hadn’t even decided on a major when I got kicked out. I just thought that we’d get a record out and get noticed before I had to.”

 

“You don’t have to stop making music forever,” Breezy said. Dallon looked up, just to see if she was taunting him. She wasn’t. Her face was perfectly sincere. “I mean it. Back in LA, I was set to be some kind of child actor. I had the perfect boyish face, everything. Then we moved to Vegas for my dad’s job, I figured out that I was a woman, and everything felt like it had gone to hell.”

 

“Didn’t it, though?”

 

“Well, for now,” Breezy said. A sly smile crept onto her face, and her eyes flicked upwards as the waitress handed them their food. Breezy and Dallon thanked her, and then Breezy took another sip of her drink before continuing. “But I’m getting out of here. I’ve got a plan, and everything. I’m going back to LA, I’m taking voice lessons so I don’t sound like I’ve been smoking two packs a day since I hit puberty, and I’m going to make it out there. Whatever it takes.”

 

“Sounds risky,” Dallon said, and bit off a corner of the little bread thing that came with his wrap. 

 

Breezy shrugged. “The alternative is staying here, in this shit city. No offense, since you’ve been here longer than me, but Las Vegas isn’t all it’s made up to be. Sure, if you go downtown and lower your standards, you’ll have a good time, but that only seems to work if you don’t have plans to stay in the city for life. I’m gonna get out of here, Dallon, and go somewhere where I won’t be judged for who I am or how many people I date.”

 

Dallon poked at his lunch. Getting up and leaving Las Vegas without looking back sounded appealing, but once Dallon got to wherever he was going, what would he have to offer? He wasn’t some kind of musical genius, he was just an above average musician who could write his own stuff without much effort. He was a pretty good songwriter, but who needed that anymore? Dallon sighed. “I don’t think I’m cut out for that. It’s not that I wouldn’t want to, I just don’t think I’ve got anything in me that’s worth risking mediocracy for.”

 

“Well, if you ever change your mind,” Breezy said, taking a bite of her falafel. “Just let me know.”

 

* * *

 

**February 26, 2003; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

Dallon still hadn’t let Breezy and his mom meet. He was afraid that his mom would notice that Breezy was trans, and harass her for it. Breezy looked like a cisgender woman, but Dallon figured it wouldn’t matter to his mom. 

 

They were back in the meeting room, now in a circle. Breezy and Dallon were seated next to each other, which had become a thing now. They went out to get dinner after the meetings a lot, so that they could complain about how horrible and full of bullshit it all was, but they didn’t mention to Martin or Margaret that they were friends. Dallon didn’t know enough about Martin or Margaret to know how they’d take that, and Breezy said that she’d been coming here long enough to know that anything that could be kept private, should be. 

 

That particular Wednesday, Martin and Margaret decided to spice things up a little. Instead of waiting for people to volunteer to speak out about their sins and then get berated for admitting their secrets to a group of strangers, Margaret decided that she’d be going down a list. There would be no pattern, so that no one could try and skip a meeting to get out of confessing, and that they’d start with the girl with the half-shaved head. 

 

“Start with your name,” Martin said. “And then tell us why you’re here. Once you’ve done that, we’ll be able to help you find the path to righteousness again.”

 

“My name is Alyssa,” she said. She looked like a scared kid now, not like a defiant teenager the way she usually did. “And I had sex with my boyfriend before marriage. We used a condom, though, so it’s not like I was going to get pregnant from it or anything, I don’t see why--”

 

“Admit that what you did was wrong. Admit it, and stop making excuses for your sinful ways.”

 

Alyssa slumped down in her seat, but she still tried to avoid the admitting that having sex with her boyfriend was wrong and would send her to hell. Dallon agreed with Alyssa, especially since the guy she’d had sex with was her boyfriend and not some stranger. Dallon had had sex with a (mostly) stranger. It wasn’t his smartest decision, even though it did feel pretty great. It was risky to have sex with someone you didn’t know, Dallon knew that. 

 

Alyssa started to cry, first with small tears leaking out of the sides of her eyes, like she thought she could hide her fear behind a wobbly voice and wet eyes. The facade didn’t last for long, though, and soon she was bawling. Some other people in the group, those who looked like they’d been attending for long enough to start believing what Margaret and Martin were preaching, started berating her too. She was called a whore, a slut, told over and over again that she was just like Eve, giving over to sin and temptation and doomed to suffer for all eternity. 

 

It was pretty nasty. Dallon dreaded what they would do to him. 

 

Near the end of the meeting, Alyssa finally cracked. When she did, a hush fell over the room, and the only sounds Dallon could hear were her choked off sobs and his own heart, beating rapidly in his chest. Alyssa wiped her face. “I’m a whore. I’m a whore. I’m a sinful whore.”

 

She kept repeating the words over and over, like some kind of mantra, and most of the room was nodding along with her. Telling her that she was right, and that she was a whore. Dallon risked a glance at Breezy. Her jaw was clenched. She didn’t say anything. Her gaze was not on Alyssa, but on the people who had brought Alyssa to this point, where she was sobbing in front of everyone. Breezy turned her gaze on Dallon, just as Martin concluded the meeting, and said that they would pray for Alyssa’s soul to be saved and cleansed of her wrong-doing. 

 

_ We’re talking about this, later _ , Breezy’s eyes said, as everyone around her and Dallon bowed their head to pray. Dallon nodded.  _ We definitely are. What they did to that girl was horrible. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. _

 

* * *

 

**August 3, 2003; Grand Junction, Colorado.**

 

Spencer stared at Brendon, who was slurping loudly from the Wendy’s milkshake he’d bought. There was no way Brendon was making this shit about Dallon up. It was too horrifying to be a lie. Spencer didn’t want to believe it, regardless. That group… they were meeting in Summerlin. Up until yesterday, Spencer had been  _ living _ in Summerlin. As had Ryan. And they had had no idea about any of it. 

 

“You okay man?” Brendon asked, suddenly noticing that Spencer was staring at him with a horrified look on his face. Spencer was just surprised it had taken him so long to realise it. 

 

“Did the same thing that happened to that girl--”

 

“Alyssa.”

 

“--to Alyssa happen to Dallon?” Spencer asked. He was pretty sure he already knew the answer. “And to Breezy, too, since she was there with him?”

 

“If you didn't interrupt me, I could tell you,” Brendon said. There was this coy little smile on his face. Like he knew everyone's secrets and couldn't wait to tell. Spencer thought about kissing him, right there in the car, just to throw him off. He’d never suspect Spencer had a thing for his boyfriend if Spencer was kissing him. 

 

That, of course, was just a needlessly mean thing to do, and Spencer tried not to be needlessly mean. He had just gotten used to the kids at school, who took advantage of anyone who acted too different to classify as being cool and edgy. Ryan had been one of those too different kids, after she got outed. Spencer had always been on the border of cool weird and just weird, and siding with Ryan had pushed him over the edge into the just weird section. 

 

Brendon slurped from his smoothie. “So, you ready for the rest, or do you want to go to something that’s not as depressing as talking about Dallon’s tragic past?”

 

“What do you have in mind?” Spencer asked. Brendon grinned, winked, and revved the engine. They flew down a road, then another, and then Brendon was pulling into a bowling alley parking lot. Spencer frowned. He wasn’t sure this qualified as an adventure, or better than getting to hear more about Dallon. Spencer was invested in the story, now. He wanted to know how it ended, and how Brendon came into it all. Brendon still hadn’t answered Spencer’s initial question, about how he and Dallon had met in the first place, but he had started to not care so much about it. He wanted Dallon and Breezy to get out of Las Vegas, even though he knew that Dallon wouldn’t for another year. It was weird, hearing one person’s retelling of another person’s past. 

 

“Come on, dude,” Brendon said, leaning over the driver seat and looking up at Spencer with big brown eyes. “It’ll be fun, I promise. And if it’s not fun, we can just steal the shoes and become criminals.”

 

“You’re a weird one, Brendon,” Spencer said. He realised that he didn’t know Brendon’s last name. He remembered Dallon’s:  _ weeks but with an extra “e” near the end _ . Spencer opened the passenger door. “What’s your last name, by the way? I don’t think I ever got it.”

 

“Urie,” Brendon said. “But I’m hoping not to keep it for much longer.”

 

“Bad connotations?” Spencer asked. He wondered if Brendon was hoping to marry Dallon, whenever they could get somewhere that allowed it, or if he just wanted to shake off any connections to his family. 

 

“You don’t even know,” Brendon said. He let Spencer hold the door open, since that was one of the things that irritated Spencer. He didn’t mind having the door held, especially when he was carrying things, but he always wondered if the person holding the door was seeing him as a girl or as the boy he really was. He was glad Brendon had picked up on that, because he always felt weird explaining why he always wanted to hold the door himself. 

 

The bowling place turned out to be somewhat lame, but Brendon was a shit bowler who cared more about dramatically releasing the ball and spinning around into a bow than actually knocking down pins, and so Spencer found himself enjoying the evening. At the end of the three games they’d bought together, the two boys looked at each other and silently decided:  _ we’re taking these shoes _ . There were memories attached to the shoes, and it wasn’t like the bowling place would miss them. They had enough shoes as it was, and they weren’t even smart enough to keep Spencer and Brendon’s shoes behind a counter. The two of them slipped their original shoes on, and then, since they’d paid for the games before starting, walked quickly out of the bowling alley. As they were leaving, Spencer heard someone call for them to stop, but he looked over at Brendon, determinedly not making eye contact with anyone, and he grinned to himself. 

 

They were stealing fucking bowling shoes. For the memories. 

 

They got to the car, and as soon as Spencer slammed his door shut, Brendon was turning on the ignition and backing out of the parking space. He only remembered to turn the lights on when Spencer yelled at him that they’d get fucking pulled over if they didn’t, and Spencer didn’t want to have to call Ryan and tell her that they’d fucked up the road trip by getting arrested. 

 

Brendon drove Spencer back through Grand Junction, to the Columbine Motel, and parked in the same space as before. He turned off the lights of the van, and leaned back in his seat. There was a grin on his face, large and genuine, and Spencer realised that Brendon had the kind of attractiveness that came from within, not from appearances. Not that Brendon wasn’t physically attractive, it just wasn’t as obvious on him. In a few years, Spencer was pretty sure no one would be able to call him unattractive, but for now Brendon was just a seventeen year old kid with a bad haircut and slightly off facial proportions. 

 

“We just stole bowling shoes,” Brendon laughed. “Holy crap, Spencer, we’re like, actual criminals.”

 

“We’re only criminals if we get caught,” Spencer said. “I think.”

 

“Okay, so we’re on the run from the law, then. Because we stole bowling shoes,” Brendon started laughing. “My parents would have a heart attack if they saw me now.”

 

“Why? Because you’re turning into a thief? Or because you’re running away to Chicago with your boyfriend?” Spencer asked. He wanted to see Brendon’s reaction, if Brendon had been trying to keep his thing with Dallon a secret like Dallon had. Spencer wasn’t an idiot, though. He could see how the two of them looked at each other. It wasn’t platonic. 

 

Brendon turned his head to stare at Spencer. “Dallon isn’t my boyfriend. We’re not dating.”

 

“You act like you are,” Spencer said, in defense of potentially embarrassing himself. It wasn’t like he had no reason to think that. Dallon and Brendon acted like they’d been dating for a while. They were close in the ways that Spencer and Ryan (who were only ever friends) were not. 

 

“We almost were, once,” Brendon said, untying the laces on his stolen bowling shoes. “But that’s a long story. Part of Dallon’s whole meeting me thing.”

 

“So are you ever going to tell it?” Spencer asked. 

 

“Maybe,” Brendon said. “But I think it’d be better if Dallon did. He was the one who told me to wait, after all.”

 

“That sucks,” Spencer said. 

 

“Yeah.”

 

“At least he’s still willing to be friends with you,” Spencer offered. A lot of the people he’d unsuccessfully tried to date had avoided him afterwards. Like they thought he’d try invading their personal space or something. Spencer had dignity, though. He wouldn’t force anyone to do something they didn’t want, especially if they were clear about what they did and did not want. “And, he doesn’t seem too awkward around you, even with the whole crush thing still there.”

 

“Who said it was still there?” Brendon asked. 

 

“Your face did.”

 

“Well, he’s not the only one I’ve got a crush on, so…” Brendon said. Spencer had looked away, up at the room to their motel room, but he looked over at Brendon again when he felt Brendon’s hand on his shoulder. Brendon had leaned closer, halfway across the space between the two front seats, and he was watching Spencer’s face with this look, somewhere between anticipation and fear. Brendon ran his tongue over his lips. “I’d like to kiss you, if that’s cool. It doesn’t… it doesn’t have to mean anything, not if you don’t want it to.”

 

“It can,” Spencer said, and then he leaned in and kissed Brendon first, just because he could. Brendon’s lips were soft and warm against his, and Brendon moved his hand to Spencer’s hair, rubbing his thumb over the skin behind Spencer’s ear. Spencer placed his hands on Brendon’s thighs, still kissing Brendon. He didn’t try for tongue. He didn’t know why. Brendon let Spencer lead, and when Spencer finally pulled away, Brendon’s lips were more swollen and tinted a dark pink. Spencer couldn’t stop staring at them. “So. You’re not dating Dallon.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Are we dating?” Spencer asked. He didn’t know if he wanted to date Brendon. Not because Brendon was a bad person, but Spencer barely knew the guy, and he was going to have to live with him for a while. What if it ended badly? Spencer didn’t want for Brendon and Dallon (because Dallon would probably go with Brendon) to be kicked out again. 

 

“Only if you want to,” Brendon said. Spencer could tell that Brendon wanted them to be dating. Spencer didn’t know if he could give him that. 

 

“Not yet,” Spencer said. Brendon’s face fell. Spencer squeezed his thigh. “Once we get to know each other better. I just don’t want to start dating you only to realise I can’t actually live in the same apartment with you.”

  
Brendon grinned. “Cool!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, Brencer! For once, I didn't start with Spallon or Brallon. Don't say I'm not creative. 
> 
> Anyway, if you enjoyed, please leave a comment/kudos! Also, sorry about the election, I tried, I hope this chapter makes your life a little better.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan and Spencer's backstory, and the origins of Panic! at the Disco (at least in this universe)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea who the guitarist of BB Panic! was before Brendon, so I just made up a dude and decided to call him Tom. Also, I'm kind of making this up as I go and learning a lot of random facts about cities/early 2000s/Mormonism as I go. It's pretty fun. 
> 
> ((Also, while writing this out I managed to kill one of the nerves in my right arm so hopefully that doesn't turn out to be serious. Good thing I'm left handed))

**August 3, 2004; Grand Junction, Colorado.**

 

The room was dark except for the lamp on the desk between the two beds. Dallon was stretched out in one of the beds, reading, and Ryan was doing the same thing in the other bed, except she had her journal out and was writing something. Brendon and Spencer didn’t mention the kiss in the car, and Spencer didn’t look at Dallon for too long, because he was trying to get over that attraction and only think about Brendon. It was harder than he expected, because it wasn’t as though Dallon was just going to stop being attractive, and it wasn’t like Spencer was going to stop liking Brendon, especially after he knew what Brendon’s mouth felt like. 

 

Brendon slipped off his shoes and dropped his stolen bowling shoes on top of them before bounding over to Dallon's bed and hopping onto the empty space beside him. “We're back! And we stole bowling shoes!”

 

Dallon dog-eared his book and raised an eyebrow at Brendon as Spencer toed off his own shoes and headed to his suitcase to get out his pajamas. “Why?”

 

“Why not?” Brendon grinned. Spencer grinned back at him. “It was fun. We almost got caught.”

 

“No we didn't, you liar,” Brendon said. Spencer shrugged and headed to the bathroom to change. He stripped down, taking off his binder and finally feeling like he could breathe again. He replaced it with a sports bra, which was somewhat effective, even though he still had a bit of a chest with the sports bra on. He folded up his clothes into a tiny ball and tucked them under his arm, checking his hair in the mirror to make sure it didn’t look dumb before he left the bathroom. 

 

He dropped his clothes into his open suitcase and then got into bed with Ryan, pushing her away from the middle of the bed because Ryan was ridiculous and didn’t seem to understand that she couldn’t just have the entire thing to herself. So what if she had long legs? Spencer still needed space, and he wasn’t going to sleep on the floor. 

 

“Turn off the light,” Brendon whispered. He’d disappeared on the other side of Dallon. All Spencer could see of him was a lump in the sheets from where Brendon had shifted onto his side. 

 

Dallon dropped his book onto the table between the beds, and Ryan did the same with her notebook, and then Dallon flipped off the lights. Spencer pulled the blankets up, turning towards the rest of the room, and towards Ryan. He couldn’t see her in the dark, but he knew she was facing him as well. She reached out and poked his shoulder, and he was pretty sure he could see her grinning in the strip of moonlight coming in through the closed curtain. She poked Spencer again. “We’re doing this. We’re actually doing this.”

 

“I know,” Spencer whispered back. 

 

They were getting out of Las Vegas, starting over entirely. Spencer was growing to the idea. 

 

* * *

 

**August 4, 2004; Grand Junction, Colorado.**

 

Spencer woke up to Dallon flicking on the lights and moving around the motel room quietly. Spencer squinted into the sudden light, and sat up so that he could see over Ryan (who was still asleep) and figure out what time it was. It was six in the morning. Why the hell was Dallon awake at six in the morning? Surely he wasn’t about to ask them to all get up and start moving now. There was no need to rush. They’d left Las Vegas already, and Jon and Ryan didn’t start college until the 27th of September. There was time to waste.

 

Dallon noticed Spencer sitting up in bed and his eyes widened. He whispered, “did I wake you?”

 

Spencer shook his head. “Not really. Why are you up?”

 

“Woke up, couldn’t go back to sleep,” Dallon said. “Decided to go for a run and see if anything was open for breakfast.”

 

“Can I come with you?” Spencer asked. He had no reason to go. He didn’t even run, but it didn’t look like Dallon did either. Maybe he was just one of those people who ran to clear his head, or because he couldn’t sleep. Spencer didn’t know anyone like that personally, but he’d seen people running by the park across the street from his house at odd hours of the night. Surely it was a thing.

 

Dallon nodded. “If you want. Don’t wear your binder, though. It might get hard to breathe.”

 

Spencer considered ignoring his advice, but he’d already been wearing his binder more than was safe, and he really didn’t want to pass out in front of Dallon. That would just be embarrassing. 

 

They left a note for Brendon and Ryan, who were both still asleep in their respective beds, and then headed out. It didn’t take Spencer very long to realise that Dallon did run, or that his legs made going fast a lot easier for him. Either way, Spencer had to keep asking Dallon to slow down a little, and then he started feeling bad for making Dallon slow down, even though Dallon didn’t seem to mind at all. The sun was starting to come up when they decided to stop for a bit. They were in front of a college campus.

 

Dallon looked down at Spencer. “Well, they probably have breakfast. You wanna surprise Brendon and Ryan?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Spencer said. “Also, I’m thirsty.”

 

“We’ll get you a juice, don’t worry,” Dallon said. Spencer had been hoping for an iced coffee, because iced coffees were the shit. He’d settle for juice, though, since it seemed like Dallon was paying and Spencer didn’t want to be a dick about it. 

 

There was an Einstein’s Bagels on the edge of the campus (which turned out to be Colorado Mesa University, a school Spencer had never heard about before), and it was open, so Spencer and Dallon ended up there. There were a few other people in the restaurant, but they all looked like college students taking summer courses and not random citisens of Grand Junction, Colorado. They all also looked very tired, as though their cups of steaming coffee were the only things keeping them from keeling over from exhaustion. That was Ryan’s future, probably. Spencer hoped she wouldn’t ever look that dead inside.

 

Dallon ordered food for everyone, and four individual bottles of apple juice as well. Spencer kept his mouth shut, figuring that Ryan could just get coffee later if she really wanted it. 

 

“Why’d you go for juice and not coffee?” Spencer asked while he and Dallon were sitting at a table and waiting for their food to come out.

 

“Did you want coffee?” Dallon asked, looking concerned. Spencer was quick to shake his head and say that he was only curious as to why anyone would choose juice over coffee when it was six forty-five in the morning and they’d already been up for almost an hour. Coffee just seemed like the optimal drink of choice. Dallon messed with the label on his apple juice for a moment. “It’s probably the Mormon thing. I’m still trying to figure out how my personal beliefs work with what I was raised to believe in. We’re not supposed to drink caffeine, which, I know, is kind of a dumb thing to do, but it doesn’t harm anyone and so I still do that. I don’t do the other stuff.”

 

“Like judge people for their life choices?” Spencer asked. It came out more bitter than he had intended, but Dallon just smiled. 

 

“I don’t really have the power to do that, you know?” Dallon said. “According to my family’s faith, I’m going to hell just as easily as you or Brendon or Ryan or anyone else who doesn’t conform to the whole cishet, monogamous, no sex before marriage crap.”

 

“So, are you still…?” Spencer let his question trail off. He could tell that Dallon was bitter about how his parents, and probably the Mormon church, had treated him and people like him, but Spencer didn’t know if Dallon had turned his back on it all. Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if he did. Spencer probably would, if he had been in Dallon’s position. 

 

“Kind of,” Dallon said. “Not in the most orthodox way. I don’t know, it’s just comforting to have something to believe in, even if I’m ignoring half of what I’m supposed to to qualify as a  _ real  _ Mormon.”

 

“You don’t see too many gay Mormons,” Spencer said. 

 

Dallon raised an eyebrow. “You don’t see many gay Catholics, either, but that’s usually because they’re good at hiding it.”

 

“Do you think some Catholic dude could hide their sexuality and end up a priest or a deacon or something?” Spencer asked. “Because, like, I’ve never really been in the closet--not fully--but I know it’s not fun and it’s a pain in the ass and after a while you just get tired of hiding and you want to be somewhere, or with someone, who won’t shun you for being honest. Could someone get away with that, though, if they wanted to go do God shit but they didn’t want to get kicked out of their church?”

 

“Probably,” Dallon said. “I could’ve stayed in the closet a lot longer than I did. I was just young and reckless and thought that no one of importance would mind.”

 

“You’re not that old,” Spencer said. Dallon looked at him, and Spencer felt like he was missing the joke or something. Was it because he was still on the wrong side of eighteen, and therefore still just a kid in Dallon’s mind? Or was it something else entirely? Age wasn’t just a physical thing. Some people--Spencer thought of Ryan immediately--were a lot older emotionally than they were physically. It was because of life experience. Spencer didn’t have a lot of that yet. He’d had supportive parents who did their best to keep him safe. 

 

The barista called out Dallon’s name, and Dallon got up, motioning for Spencer to follow him. Spencer did, and grabbed the other drinks so that Dallon could get all of the bagels. 

 

Ryan and Brendon weren’t awake when Dallon and Spencer returned to the motel, but it was past eight o’clock and Dallon and Spencer decided that it was late enough that they could get away with waking them up. Spencer, because he was Ryan’s best friend and because he’d taken Ryan’s elbows to his face before and knew that it wouldn’t hurt for too long. He leapt onto Ryan, bouncing on top of her until she whirled around under him, successfully elbowing him in the face. Her hair was a mess, curling at the ends, and she didn’t look fully conscious. 

 

Spencer rolled off and sat beside Ryan, grinning down at her. “We got bagels.”

 

“Why am I awake?” Ryan groaned. She rubbed her hands across her face, pushing her hair away. “And where did you get the bagels  _ from _ ?”

 

“Einstein’s,” Dallon said. He was sitting on his and Brendon’s bed, gently waking Brendon up. Ryan didn’t get that nicety from Spencer; the two of them were too close to be that level of considerate with each other. They had other things where they were nice to each other, things that really mattered. 

 

Ryan sat up, slowly, still looking like she wanted to elbow Spencer again for waking her up before she was ready. She pulled at the collar of her t-shirt from where it had been messed up in her sleep, and it took her a moment before she really registered that there was a bag of bagels and four apple juice bottles sitting on the little table in the motel. Ryan slid out of bed, her bare feet dragging across the carpeted floor until she got to the table and she fell down into the chair. “Are the bagels specific to people?”

 

“No, I just got four plain bagels with cream cheese,” Dallon said. Brendon still hadn’t arisen. Dallon shook Brendon’s shoulder. “Bren, wake up. I brought food.”

 

Brendon murmured out a soft “no,” but he got out of bed anyway. The four of them ate their breakfast on the floor of the motel, holding their bagels over their laps and drinking juice. It was kind of nice. Spencer wondered if this was what his life would be like now: having breakfast with friends on the floor instead of at a table because his parents were worried about crumbs in the carpet. 

 

They packed up and showered in shifts, Dallon getting first shower so that he could go check out of the motel while the other three finished up. They were out of Grand Junction by ten, and Ryan was back to texting Jon, keeping him updated as to where they were. Spencer remembered that he needed to update his mom, but he knew she’d be pissed if he texted her and nothing else. He’d call his mom whenever they stopped for gas, or food or whatever. 

 

There was no time limit on anything. And Brendon was in the front seat, dramatically singing the opening verse of  _ Let’s Get It On _ by Marvin Gaye to Dallon. Dallon rolled his eyes and told Brendon, “contain yourself,” and both Ryan and Spencer laughed. The next few hours passed by quickly, and it felt like the four of them had bonded over feeling unwelcome in Las Vegas and leaving together. Spencer figured that there was some kind of gay people bond, where any gay or trans person could find friendship in another gay or trans person. 

 

“Oh, hey,” Ryan said, as they were getting into the Rocky Mountains. “I read this thing online, while I was trying to figure out how to get to Chicago, about how people’s ears pop all the time in high altitudes, and that chewing gum or whatever helps that not happen.”

 

“Dallon,” Brendon said, abandoning his effort to retrieve yet another Capri Sun to poke Dallon in the arm. “Dallon let’s get gum. And gas station snacks.”

 

“Whenever you find a gas station, let me know and I’ll pull off for you,” Dallon said. 

 

“There’re four at this exit,” Spencer said, pointing at the sign they were passing. Dallon made a little “huh,” and switched lanes, taking the exit and following the signs to the nearest Conoco station. Dallon parked in front of one of the gas pumps and stopped the car. 

 

Spencer, Ryan, and Brendon all headed into the store, leaving Dallon out alone to fill the minivan up with gas. Brendon split off to go get snacks, and Spencer and Ryan headed over to the candy and gum aisle to loiter around and eventually pick up a pack of gum each. Ryan ran her fingers across the various flavours of gum. “Have you ever thought about changing your name?Like, legally and shit?”

 

“Not really. Spencer’s a guy name, and I’m cool with it.”Spencer said, and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Why, are you thinking about it?”

 

“Well, yeah,” Ryan said. She grabbed a pack of spearmint gum and turned it over in her hands. “I’m thinking that once I turn eighteen and figure out the whole college thing, I’ll look into getting my name legally changed. I never liked my name, even before I knew I was a girl, and, like, if I can change it, I want to. I don’t want to be Ryan anymore, you know?”

 

“Who do you want to be?” Spencer said. He knew that, whatever name Ryan chose, she’d still be his best friend. He’d call her whatever she wanted to be called, because names didn’t have to mean shit unless the owner said they did. 

 

“I don’t know,” Ryan shrugged, and grabbed a different pack of gum. “Jon and I have been talking about it, off and on. Nothing serious. But since you’re my best friend I figured you should be allowed in on the whole renaming thing.”

 

“You’re not going to let me choose your name, though, are you?”

 

“No fucking way,” Ryan said. She pulled a purple pack of gum from the rack, and held it in her hand. Spencer grabbed a pack of mint gum, knowing that Ryan had finally made her decision, and the two of them headed to the front register to buy their gum and then wait until Brendon finished getting his stuff so that they could head back to Dallon and the minivan and leave. 

 

“Dude, Brendon, are you done yet?” Ryan asked. She ripped open her pack of gum and popped a strip into her mouth. Brendon was in front of the wall of drinks, looking up at it like it was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen in his life. Spencer moved from Ryan to stand next to Brendon, and bumped their hips together. “They’re just drinks, Brendon. Nothing exciting.”

 

“I’ve never had caffeine before,” Brendon said. His voice was barely above a whisper. He looked at the bottles of Coke on the wall like they were some kind of foreign, fascinating drink instead of something that nearly everyone drank. It was kind of adorable.

 

Ryan leaned around Spencer to give Brendon a weird look. “That… sucks. But please stop looking at the soda like it’s going to save your friends from dying.”

 

“Right, sorry,” Brendon said. He pulled the door open and grabbed a 12 ounce Coke, then let the door slam shut. He narrowed his eyes and tapped the cap of the bottle against his lips, obviously thinking about something. He didn’t share his thoughts with Spencer or Ryan, but instead grabbed a few random snacks from the aisles of the Conoco store and lead the two to the counter. Spencer didn’t know where Brendon was getting the money to buy these things, because he and Dallon had both made it obvious that they didn’t have the support of their parents. Brendon had a job, sure, but Spencer knew that summer jobs didn’t pay  _ that  _ well.

 

Maybe Brendon had some secret trust fund from a weirdly rich cousin or something. 

 

They got back into the minivan after Dallon had been finished pumping gas for at least a minute. He’d been done long enough that he had grabbed a pair of sunglasses from the cupholders in the front seats and was leaning against the front of the car. He looked bored, not that Spencer could really tell since Dallon’s eyes were covered by his sunglasses. Dallon stood up when Ryan, Spencer, and Brendon got close enough, and unlocked the doors to let them all back in. 

 

And then they were on the road again. Brendon changed out the CDs as they played through,  _ Jessie’s Girl _ came on yet again, and Spencer chewed his gum and tried not to think about whether or not the song still applied to his life. 

 

The scenery, of course, was gorgeous, and Spencer tried to snap a picture or two on his phone so that he could send them to his parents. They were from Colorado. Not the mountain parts of Colorado, but from Denver. Spencer knew that they had been out to the Rockies at least once before moving out to Las Vegas. He sent the pictures to his mom first, and almost immediately, he got a text back.  _ u havent called. call me. _ Spencer flinched. He’d forgotten, again. He knew that if he didn’t do it soon, his mom would start texting him repeatedly, and maybe even try calling him. 

 

Spencer looked up from his phone, to Dallon, who was driving and singing along with Brendon to Take Me Home Tonight, both of them surprisingly on key. “Hey, Dallon, I need to call my mom before she starts freaking out. Can you pull over for a second?”

 

“You can do it in the car,” Dallon said. “We can shut up for a moment, and I’ll kick Brendon out if he says anything dumb.”

 

“Oh, don’t worry about Brendon,” Ryan said. She had a sly grin on her face, and Spencer worried that she was going to do something. “He doesn’t know how to make Spencer’s mom flip her shit. I do.”

 

“Ryan, I swear to God,” Spencer said, but then Ryan winked and Spencer realised that she was all bluster. She wouldn’t fuck this up for them just to make a joke. She wanted Spencer on this trip just as much as Spencer wanted to be with her and get to go to Chicago. Ryan stretched out her legs, poking Spencer’s calf with one of her feet. “I’m not going to tell your mom that we’ve got a bunch of hookers in the trunk of the car.”

 

“We are not transporting any hookers across state lines,” Dallon said. “Not unless they ask nicely and promise to help pay rent at your boyfriend’s apartment.”

 

Spencer rolled his eyes and called his mom, telling everyone to shut up about hookers while he did so. His mom was angry at him for a while, but Spencer managed to convince her that he wasn’t being irresponsible or forgetful, even though he had forgotten to call entirely. She kept talking to him, about various things, even though the signal kept going in and out and Spencer was pretty sure that all of these calls were going to cost money. Not his money, since his parents were still paying for everyone’s phones. 

 

* * *

 

**August 4, 2004; Frisco, Colorado.**

 

They stopped for lunch in the middle of the Rocky Mountains, in a little town called Frisco that apparently was in between a bunch of different ski resorts. It was summer, and so Spencer couldn’t tell if the waitress who served them was being serious or not. Spencer trusted her, since there were mountains everywhere and he knew that mountains were necessary for skiing, but there weren’t any signs of a resort nearby. 

 

They didn’t stay in Frisco for very long, because according to the map they still had about five hours of driving before they got to the city where Dallon and Ryan had decided they would stay for the night. Once back in the car, the 80’s music returned, and everyone was singing. Spencer wasn’t even good at singing, but he thought it would be weird not to. No one called him out on it, either, and so the musical continued. 

 

Spencer nudged Ryan in the arm while Brendon changed the CD again. “Hey, remember when we were in that band? We should do that again, when we get to Chicago.”

 

“You sure?” Ryan asked. Spencer nodded. “Yeah. It’s still our future, even if it’s in a different city from where we started.”

 

* * *

 

**May 17, 2002; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

Spencer tapped her drumsticks against her legs, waiting for Ryan to show up for practice. He was late, again, and the other two guys in the band were starting to get annoyed. Ryan was usually on time, except for when his dad was being a dick or conscious. Spencer tried her best to defend Ryan when he wasn’t there to do it himself, but the guys were relentless. They didn’t think much of Spencer, since she was a year younger than them and also a girl. 

 

Spencer tapped her drumsticks harder, wishing she could somehow prove to the other two guys that she was a damn good musician, and Ryan was on an entirely different level from any of them. They’d never be at his level, and she knew it, and it was all she could do to keep up with him. 

 

A car pulled up, the engine sputtering loudly and leaving behind a trail of smoke. Ryan’s next door neighbour, the one with three different dogs and at least as many cats, had the same car, and Ryan always complained about how it smelled. Spencer stood up, tightening her grip on her sticks as she approached the car. Ryan got out of the passenger side, his face concealed by the door as he talked to his neighbour. He straightened up and moved around to the trunk, grabbing his guitar case and pulling it up over on shoulder. Ryan turned around, and Spencer’s eyes widened. 

 

He was covered in bruises. 

 

Spencer knew, because Ryan had told her, that his father was abusive sometimes. Only when the guy was sober enough to remember where he was and how he hated his son. Ryan always covered the bruises with makeup or concealer, but now he was standing there, his guitar case over his shoulder and bruises all over his face and arms, and he wasn’t hiding anything. 

 

Spencer stepped towards her best friend, her brows furrowing. “Are you… are you okay?”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Ryan said, his voice cracking slightly. He brushed past Spencer, heading towards Spencer’s grandmother’s garage where they were all practicing. Spencer left her drum kit there, and Ryan and the guys left their amps in the basement so that they didn’t have to cart them around everywhere. Ryan was the vocalist, since he was the one writing the music and the band had been his and Spencer’s idea in the first place. “I’m late enough already.”

 

Spencer frowned, but followed Ryan in and ignored how the guys spent a good twenty minutes telling Ryan off for being late. The worst part was that Ryan just stood there and let them. Ryan never let anyone in the band give him shit. 

 

Eventually, they got to actual practice time, which went well considering how everyone except Spencer had been lashing out at each other at the beginning of the session. The other two guys left before Ryan, because Spencer’s grandmother had given Ryan permission to stay as long as he wanted, whenever he wanted. Spencer knew that Ryan tried not to take advantage of that, and so she’d stick around at her grandmother’s house so that Ryan wouldn’t feel weird just hanging out with someone’s grandma. 

 

They didn’t go inside the house, because it wasn’t too hot out yet. The garage was their part of the house, anyway, and Spencer knew her grandmother wouldn’t bother them unless Spencer went up to ask her for something. 

 

Spencer let her hair down from where she’d had it up in a ponytail for practice. “So, you want to talk about it now? You never come in with your bruises visible, dude. What happened?”

 

Ryan looked at Spencer for a while, like he was sizing her up, trying to figure out if she was trustworthy of knowing his secret. He caved in, though, because he always caved in and they were too close of friends for Ryan to really keep things from Spencer. He pressed one of his long fingers to the bruise on his cheek, tenderly. “I, um. I need to tell you something. And I need you to promise not to tell anyone else, even if you think I’m a freak or disgusting or anything else.”

 

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Spencer said. 

 

“I’m a girl, Spence,” Ryan said, quietly. Spencer stared at him for a moment. A girl? What exactly did Ryan mean by that? Ryan picked at his nail. “I’m transgender, and a girl, and I want to be called she and her and shit like that but I’m terrified of people finding out and thinking I’m some freak. Because that happens, you know. You come out, start being honest about who you really are, and the world spits in your face.”

 

“I don’t think you’re a freak,” Spencer said. “I don’t… I don’t know much about transgender stuff, but, like, if you say you’re a girl, then you’re a girl. Does anyone else know?”

 

“Not really,” Ryan said. “My dad found my makeup stash, though, that’s why I was late and why I didn’t have anything to cover the bruises. He tossed most of it out. And he called me some shit, and all the usual bullshit I deal with, and then I grabbed my guitar and I bolted next door and tried not to cry while asking for a ride.”

 

“That sucks,” Spencer said. She put her hand over Ryan’s. “And if anyone gives you shit for who you are, I’ll fucking punch them in the face.”

 

“Same for you,” Ryan said, leaning in to bump her shoulder against Spencer’s. “If anyone messes with you, I’m taking them out.”

 

“No offense, Ryan, but you couldn’t hurt a baby if it tried to fight you.”

 

“Fuck off, I totally could.”

 

* * *

 

**December 18, 2003; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

Spencer figured it all out two days ago. He’d been staring at himself in the mirror, trying to figure out why the hell he hated seeing his own body and why he never felt comfortable in makeup the way Ryan did. It wasn’t weight, or whatever bullshit kept the issues of Vogue and Cosmopolitan coming. It was just that Spencer was looking at himself wrong. He was trying to make himself a girl, when he hadn’t been one. Ever. 

 

Suddenly, his parents never asking him about getting a boyfriend made a lot of sense. They’d been spending all their time thinking they had a lesbian, because they didn’t realise that they had a son. 

 

He stood in front of his mirror again, scissors in hand, and wondered if he should just call Ryan and have her come over and do it. It wasn’t like Spencer had to come out to her, though he probably would, but Spencer knew that if he wanted Ryan to cut all of his hair off, then Ryan would. 

 

Spencer had to do this on his own, though. He had to get rid of it all, make himself look like any other guy. Since Ryan couldn’t, not outside of Spencer’s bedroom when she came over to hang out and practice makeup, Spencer had to. One of them had to be the face of non-conforming. So Spencer brought the scissors up to his head, leaned over the trashcan, and started snipping away. He just hoped his mom wouldn’t come in to see if he’d gone to sleep yet. It was a little after one in the morning. Spencer would have to face them, and then his band and Ryan, tomorrow. 

 

For now, though, he was just a guy, cutting off his hair. 

 

When he thought he was finished, he sat up and shook his head out, brushing his hands through his hair to try and get the remaining bits out. When Spencer looked in the mirror, he was expecting to see something drastically different. He was hoping, that, if he cut all of his hair off, he’d magically look like any other girl in high school.

 

Spencer didn’t look like a guy. He just looked like a girl who had fought with a weed whacker and lost. 

 

“Well, fuck,” Spencer said, quietly. He leaned in, pushing the trash can closer so that it was pressed against the mirror, and then leaned over it to start fixing his hair. He was still working on it two hours later, and it still looked bad. Spencer couldn’t tell if it was because he just didn’t know how to cut his own hair, or if it was because he’d never really be satisfied with the way he looked, no matter what he did with his hair. 

 

Spencer wiped his scissors on his t-shirt and then set them down on his desk. He frowned at the mirror, and his reflection frowned back. If only he could have Ryan help, because Ryan had cut her own hair before and she never fucked up like this.

 

* * *

 

**December 19, 2003; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

Spencer’s mom had taken him to an actual hairdresser, who had fixed up Spencer’s hair. His mom had tutted at him the whole ride there, telling him that there was no need to chop off all of his hair like that, that he could have just told her that he wanted short hair and she would have let him do it. She didn’t seem to understand, though, that Spencer had had to do the initial chop himself. It was a way of validation, to make all of this feel real. 

 

To prove to himself that he wasn’t just faking his gender, or doing it because he wanted to be like Ryan. Spencer had to prove to himself that he was a boy, without anyone else influencing him. 

 

He didn’t mention that to his mom when she drove him to get his hair cut, nor did he mention it while his mom was driving to Ryan’s house to take Ryan and him to band practice. It was an emergency practice, last minute, because Ryan had had some kind of breakthrough idea the previous night and needed to get it started immediately. 

 

Ryan was sitting out on her front steps when Spencer’s mom pulled up. She was wrapped up in a hoodie, hood up and the sleeves pulled over her hands. Spencer leaned around behind the passenger seat and opened the backseat door so that Ryan wouldn’t have to while holding her guitar. Ryan offered Spencer a smile through the tinted car door glass, and got in. When she noticed that Spencer’s hair was short, her eyes widened, and she missed trying to grab the car door handle to close it. “You cut off all your hair.”

 

“Yeah,” Spencer said, because his mom was in the car and Spencer wasn’t about to come out to her and Ryan at the same time. Ryan would be the first to know, just like Spencer was the first to know that Ryan was trans. “I just wanted it gone. Maybe it’ll be easier to play now, since it won’t be getting in my face anymore.”

 

“Yeah, but now you can’t headbang as epically as you used to,” Ryan countered. Spencer shrugged, and turned around in her seat. So what if her headbangs weren’t as epic? It wasn’t as though the band had ever played in front of an audience that wasn’t Spencer’s grandmother. No one would even realise what they’d been missing out on. 

 

Spencer’s mom dropped him and Ryan off, and made Spencer promise to call her when they were done so that Spencer could get home before dark. There was something about Christmas shopping, and getting it done before the rush, but Spencer wasn’t paying much attention. He was thinking about how they were both fifteen minutes early, and how that surely would be enough time to come out to Ryan and tell her that, hey, guess what, they could still be that one boy/girl duo who never dated each other. They were no longer a pair of girls, just being pals and never assumed to be anything else. 

 

Ryan put her guitar case down by Spencer’s drums, and then settled herself down on one of the amps. Spencer sat down on the stool behind his drums and pressed his hands between his thighs. “So, Ryan, I gotta tell you something.”

 

“You have a girlfriend?” Ryan asked. 

 

Spencer rolled his eyes. “No, and before you ask, I don’t have a boyfriend either. The thing is, I’m trans too. Except, like, the opposite of you, because I’m a guy who everyone thinks is a girl, and you’re a girl who everyone thinks is a guy. But, yeah, I’m a guy. Surprise.”

 

Ryan moved around the drum kit, almost kicking something over with her foot, and enveloped Spencer in a hug, holding him close to her. Spencer hugged back, because it was a nice relief, even though he was sure Ryan of all people would be cool with Spencer coming out as trans. She pulled back after a few minutes, from what was probably the most intense and most stress-relieving hug of Spencer’s life, and looked him up and down. “Is that why you cut your hair?”

 

“Yeah,” Spencer said. “I haven’t told my parents yet, but I’m thinking about it. They didn’t seem to have a problem with me being bi.”

 

“Being into guys and girls and being a guy instead of a girl are two totally different things,” Ryan warned. Spencer knew she had every right to be worried, since her dad was still giving her shit. Her dad didn’t even know that Ryan was trans; all he knew was that Ryan wore makeup and sometimes bought her clothes from the girl sections of stores. Spencer could only imagine how shitty it would be if Ryan’s dad ever found out the truth. 

 

Spencer nodded. “I know. But I think my parents will be okay with it. I mean, I hope they are.”

 

“Well, if they’re not, we can always run away somewhere and make a new band,” Ryan said. “The other two are replaceable, but you’re not. I don’t think I could ever be in a band without you.”

 

“Me either,” Spencer said. “It’d just be weird, not having you in front of me and making faces whenever someone messed up their part.”

 

* * *

 

**April 5, 2004; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

Ryan got outed during Spencer’s third period class. Spencer found out in the middle of his fourth period, when the two girls who sat in front of him were whispering about something and Spencer asked what they were on about. One of them turned around, looked down at Spencer and his short hair and failed attempt to flatten his chest with a sports bra, and said, “your weird friend Ryan thinks he’s a girl. Someone found his Livejournal and he was posting about it. So, have fun with that, dyke.”

 

And just like that, Spencer and Ryan’s semi popularity with the scene kids and the alternative kids ended. Spencer sat through the rest of fourth period with his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He was thinking about Ryan, and if what those girls said was true. Spencer knew that Ryan had two Livejournals: one that she kept to herself and her online friends, and the other that she made semi public so that she could feel popular while on the internet. Spencer didn’t know which Livejournal Ryan had come out on, but he hated that someone from school had found it and had used Ryan’s words against her. 

 

He left the room as soon as the bell rang, and instead of heading to his fifth period class, he headed to where he and Ryan would always have their lunch. Sometimes they’d eat with some of Ryan's friends, but often times they would sneak out to the back of the school and sit by the radiators, eating their lunch. Sometimes Ryan would work on her writing. Sometimes they'd just talk shit about their classmates, and how everyone would regret not being friends with them in high school once their band made it and they were touring the world. 

 

Ryan was out there, her face bowed and hidden behind her hair. Spencer walked over and sat down beside her, putting a hand on her shoulder gently so she wouldn't flinch away. “I heard what happened. And I'm sorry, that shouldn't have happened.”

 

“Yeah, but it did, and now I'm fucked for the next two months until I can graduate and get the hell out of here,” Ryan said. She wiped her face with the sleeve of her uniform shirt and looked up at the sky. “Someone's already written shit on my locker, calling me a freak and a fag and--”

 

“You're not alone, Ry,” Spencer said. He pulled her close, a plan already forming in his mind. If Ryan was going to have to face shit for being herself, then Spencer was going to be there with her. And besides, he'd already been called a dyke once today. He wasn't even into only girls. “I'm with you, no matter where we end up going.”

 

“Thanks, Spence,” Ryan said. 

 

* * *

 

**April 9, 2004; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

“I'm not going to be in a band with a pair of trannys,” Tom spat out on Friday. Brent hadn't even shown up, which was consensus enough about how he felt. It had been four days since Ryan was outed to the entire school, and since Spencer had come out to his parents. His parents took it well, and even ordered him a binder so that he wouldn't have to keep wearing sports bras. It had been three days since Spencer outed himself to the entire school. They hadn't taken it as well, but at least Ryan wasn't the only transgender kid at their school. 

 

“Then don't be in the band,” Ryan snarked back. She'd gotten her snark back now that Spencer was open about his gender. It was like she had something to fight for again. “This band has always been me and Spencer, and if you don't want to be a part of that then leave. We don't need you. We can replace you, and we  _ will _ replace you.”

 

“Yeah, because there are totally people out there who'd want to hang around freaks like you,” Tom rolled his eyes. He grabbed his guitar and his amps, and stormed up the stairs and into Spencer's grandmother’s house. Spencer hoped that Tom wouldn't out him or Ryan to Spencer’s grandmother. Spencer liked his grandmother enough, but she was older and Spencer was pretty sure she wouldn’t understand the whole transgender thing. Spencer didn’t want to lose his practice space on top of losing his other band members. 

 

Ryan sat down on the floor of the garage, looking defeated for the first time that day. Spencer sat down beside her, bumping their shoulders together. “He was kind of a shitty guitarist, anyway. We’d have to replace him eventually if we wanted to get anywhere with this band.”

 

“He was right, though,” Ryan said. “Who the fuck is gonna want to be in a band with us? I mean, even if we do find people who don’t care that we’re trans, who the hell is going to take on a band with openly transgender members?” Ryan said. “I mean, it’s one thing to be gay, that’s starting to be okay in some music circles, but you and I… we’re still thought of as weird.”

 

“We’ll find someone,” Spencer said. It was a promise he was willing to make, because he knew that he and Ryan were meant to be in a band together. Maybe they’d never be headlining anything, maybe they’d never get recognised while out shopping for groceries, but they’d do something with their lives, and they’d do it together, in a band. 

 

* * *

 

**August 4, 2004; Atwood, Colorado.**

 

They paused in a small town near the Colorado and Nebraska border to get gas. Spencer and Ryan sat outside on the curb while Brendon was inside the little store, using the bathroom and Dallon was over at the gas pump, filling up the car. Ryan had taken the final two Capri Suns from Brendon’s box, and she and Spencer were sharing them as they waited for Brendon to come back out of the single occupancy bathroom on the outside of the little store. Ryan crossed her legs at the ankles. “If we do the band thing again in Chicago, who’re we gonna ask to be in it? I don’t know anyone other than Jon, and he plays some, but that’s not enough for a band.”

 

“You know that Dallon was in a band before, right?” Spencer said. Ryan shook her head. Spencer drank from his Capri Sun. “He was, when he was in college. And he played bass and sang apparently, so we could have him in the band too.”

 

“You just want him there because you think he’s hot,” Ryan said. Spencer rolled his eyes. Ryan wasn’t entirely wrong, because Dallon was hot and Spencer still would if Dallon ever offered, but he had Brendon. Somewhat. He and Brendon hadn’t had much time alone since last night, so Spencer still didn’t know exactly what they were, or if they were anything at all. He told Ryan the part about thinking that Dallon was attractive, but left out his thing with Brendon, just in case he was overreacting and it wasn't actually a thing. 

 

Because the truth was, if Spencer lived in an alternate universe where it wasn't weird to be involved with multiple people, he'd probably just date Dallon and Brendon because he liked them both. 

 

“And Brendon could be in the band, too,” Ryan said. Spencer raised his eyebrows. What exactly was Brendon going to do in the band? He could sing (oh God could he sing), but Ryan had always been the lead vocalist because the original songs the band played were her words. It would make sense that the creator of the words got to sing them. Ryan tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “You're probably going to judge me for saying this, but I think Brendon would make a great vocalist. And, I don't know, but all of the stuff I write… I'm not sure I have a confident enough voice to pull it all off the way I need to. I think Brendon could.”

 

“So when do we ask them?”

 

“I'll text Jon once we get back on the road, but I doubt he'll say no,” Ryan said. “And once I ask him, you can ask Dallon and Brendon.”

 

Spencer nodded. The two of them finished up their Capri Suns, and then Brendon came back out of the bathroom. He dropped the key into Spencer’s lap, winked at him, and strode off to the minivan. It was then that Spencer realised that Brendon had a fantastic ass. Instead of dwelling on this, or staring long enough that Ryan noticed and pointed it out, he stood up and headed to the bathroom. 

 

Spencer waited to bring up the band until they were all back on the highway and headed towards whatever city in Nebraska Dallon had decided they were spending the night in. They were in the middle of nowhere, with Dallon focused on the road ahead of them and Brendon humming along to  _ Wake Me Up _ instead of singing so that he wouldn’t distract Dallon as much. Spencer looked over at Ryan, waiting for her to notice him watching her. She nodded, and Spencer turned towards the front of the car. “So, you know how me and Ryan were in a band?”

 

“Yeah,” Dallon said. “Ryan brought her guitar.”

 

Of course she did. 

 

“So, um, we’re kind of short a bassist and a vocalist, and, well…” Spencer trailed off as Brendon turned around and faced Spencer with wide, excited brown eyes. Spencer really wanted him to be in the band. There was something about him, something captivating that made him impossible to look away from. He’d make a great frontman, even if he was singing Ryan’s songs. Spencer pressed his hands between his thighs. “Ryan and I thought that you two could be in our band. If you wanted to, of course. And assuming that you haven’t just been bullshitting your talents to try and impress us while we’re all trapped in a car together.”

 

Brendon had started nodding as soon as Spencer said that he and Ryan wanted them in the band. Dallon tapped his fingers against the steering wheel for a moment, and Spencer crossed his fingers, hoping Dallon would be cool with it as well. It wasn’t like Dallon would have to worry about his bandmates disliking him because of his sexuality. Dallon nodded, a small movement that Spencer barely caught in the rearview mirror. “Sounds like it could be fun. Is it just you and Ryan then?”

 

“Nope, Jon agreed to be our other guitarist,” Ryan said. Spencer wondered when she’d gotten the confirmation text from Jon, or if she was just assuming that he’d be willing to do it. “Now we just need to figure out a name, because the last one we had kind of sucked.”

 

“What was it?” Brendon asked. 

 

Ryan rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses. Spencer couldn’t see her eyes, but he knew she was doing it because it was the only reasonable thing to do when referencing the band’s former name. “Pet Salamander. I don’t remember how we came up with it, but it left when the other two guys left, and now we’re nameless again.”

 

“We’ll figure something out,” Dallon said. He sounded pretty certain, but then again, he’d been in a band before. A band that, from what Spencer knew, had been doing pretty well until Dallon got outed and then kicked out of college. They probably would have even made a record, had Dallon not gotten caught. Spencer imagined how different it would be, if Dallon and the Brobecks had never split and ended up making it. Would Spencer have ever get to know Dallon the way he did now? Would Dallon still be in the closet or would his Brobecks bandmates not give a shit who Dallon dated?

 

“So, since I’m doing the singing, what exactly am I singing?” Brendon asked. Ryan started explaining the nuances of the band to Dallon and Brendon. Spencer had heard all of this before, since he and Ryan were the band and they knew everything about it, so he tuned them out and focused on chewing his gum and watching the flat fields fly by. 

 

It was gorgeous out there, even though they were out in the plains where nothing happened, ever. Spencer blamed it on the fact that he was back in a band, a real band, and not just him and his best friend and their dreams. He had a feeling that things were starting to move in a positive direction, and that maybe he and Ryan had finally found the members they needed to flesh out their band and really get into making music. 

 

Spencer had never met Jon, and had only heard about him through Ryan, but he trusted Jon. If Ryan thought that Jon was good enough to play with them, then Jon would play with them and they’d be a five man band. A five man band made up of a bunch of gay and trans kids. Spencer grinned. The people from his high school were going to lose their minds when his and Ryan’s first album came out and they realised they’d been snubbing the newest, greatest band of the 2000s. 

 

* * *

 

**August 4, 2004; North Platte, Nebraska.**

 

The motel they ended up at was called the Blue Spruce Motel, and it looked sad. There were maybe six rooms in the two buildings that faced the parking lot, and the only decoration was a brick pond that looked  like it hasn’t seen life since 2000. The sign looked like it needed an update, and all it said was 

 

2 4H R   PH ONES 

TH AN K S   FOR

S T A Y I N G

 

Spencer frowned. “This looks like the scene for a murder novel or something.”

 

“It had good reviews,” Dallon said. “And there’s a Walgreens across the street, so if anyone gets stabbed we can always run over there and buy some emergency bandages.”

 

“If there’s anything weird in the rooms I’m sleeping out in the car,” Ryan said. Spencer was pretty sure she was bluffing, though. Ryan wasn’t one for sleeping in cars, not unless she absolutely had to. She grabbed her overnight bag and followed Dallon and Brendon up to the room anyway. The room wasn’t as bad as Spencer had been expecting. It was badly lit, even with all of the lights on, but the beds were made and they looked useable. The bathroom was a little grimy, but Spencer had seen--and had used--worse in his lifetime. After going to high school for three years, and using high school bathrooms pretty much everyday unless he was lucky, nothing phased Spencer anymore. 

 

Besides, it was only for one night. 

 

“Hey, Spence, you wanna go to Walgreens?” Brendon asked. He was laying upside down on one of the beds with his head hanging off over the side. He bounced up and flipped over, landing on his elbows and looking like an excited puppy. 

 

“What do you need at Walgreens?” Spencer asked. 

 

Brendon shrugged. “Dunno, but I wanna get out of here and you’re not doing anything, so…”

 

“I’m not doing anything either,” Dallon said. Ryan had already retreated to the other bed with her laptop and was trying to log onto the wifi offered. Spencer didn’t know why the previous motel hadn’t had any wifi. That motel was a lot nicer than this one. Spencer figured that the reason people came to this motel instead of some other North Platte motel was because the Blue Spruce Motel let it’s guests access the internet from their rooms instead of venturing out to the office. 

 

Brendon hopped off the bed. He was really energetic. “Yeah, well, you drove here, so you’re probably tired and also me and Spencer are going to do illegal things that’ll make you feel like a bad adult. So, Spencer and me are going. We’ll be back in like, an hour.”

 

“Brendon, you’ve never done anything illegal in your life,” Dallon said. 

 

Brendon winked. “That could change tonight. You never know.”

 

Dallon shook his head, but handed the car keys over to Brendon anyway. Brendon tugged on Spencer’s sleeve until Spencer was ready to go back out, and then he was pulling Spencer out of the motel room and into the parking lot. The sun was still out, because it was a little before seven in the evening, but it was starting to set. Brendon dropped his hand from Spencer’s arm, and instead reached out and poked at Spencer’s hand until Spencer took a hold of Brendon. And then the two were holding hands while they crossed the parking lot on a Wednesday evening in August. 

 

They drove to the Walgreens, and Brendon parked them near the door. Spencer turned to Brendon before they got out of the car. “Is there anything you want from Walgreens?”

 

“Not really, maybe some candy or another box of Capri Sun if they’ve got it,” Brendon said. He was fiddling with the spare change in the front cupholders. “I was kind of just looking for an excuse to just be with you again. And maybe get to kiss you. Because that was enjoyable.”

 

“Just enjoyable?” Spencer teased. Brendon looked up, like he thought he’d actually offended Spencer, and Spencer took that moment of surprise to lean across the car and kiss Brendon. It felt as nice as the last time, maybe even better now that they knew each other’s mouths a bit more, and there weren’t any first time jitters. 

  
They ended up buying a pack of Capri Sun and a bag of gummi worms, just so that Ryan and Dallon wouldn’t ask too many questions. They spent most of their time, though, making out in the front seats of the purple minivan, in the Walgreens parking lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed it!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon and Spencer have an adventure, plus more backstories for everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read the tags, I've updated them a little, and the updates apply to this chapter. 
> 
> Also, I think this is my longest chapter for this fic, if not for anything I've ever written.

**February 26, 2003; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

Dallon didn’t mean to storm out of the meeting as soon as Martin finished the closing prayer. He hadn’t wanted anyone, Breezy included, to know how much Alyssa’s interrogation had affected him. That’s all it was, an interrogation. They weren’t solving anything. Unlike with that pedophile creep, there was nothing to solve. Sure, it was a little worrying that she was a teenage girl and already having sex, but she was having sex with one person. She wasn’t sleeping around, she was probably using protection (Dallon hoped she was using protection; no high schooler was ready to be a parent), and she wasn’t doing anything to wild.

 

Teenage hormones should never be shamed, Dallon thought. 

 

Breezy caught up with him outside of the church. His mom hadn’t shown up yet, thankfully. He was just standing in the cool evening air, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Breezy grabbed a hold of his shoulder and turned him around. “You wanna talk about that?”

 

“About what?” Dallon said. He didn’t mean to be so bitter. It just happened. 

 

Breezy rolled her eyes. “About how two grown ass adults just verbally assaulted a girl because she had consensual sex with her own boyfriend. And don’t come at me with that saving yourself for marriage bullshit, because I know damn well that you haven’t.”

 

“I wasn’t going to,” Dallon said. He took a deep breath. They were both pissed off, but not at each other, and Dallon needed to remember that before he got into a fight with his only remaining friend. He scuffed his Converse against the concrete sidewalk. “I just… shit. Is it always like that? Whenever they decide to get down and start making people confess to the things they’ve done?”

 

“Sometimes it’s worse,” Breezy said. She didn’t say what made it worse, and Dallon didn’t ask. He didn’t need to. There were worse options than just going to a meeting once a week. There were camps, for gay kids and probably for transgender kids, and Dallon had only ever heard horror stories about those. Conversion therapy, or whatever made up term they were using now to cover up the fact that teenagers were literally being sent away to get tortured until they said they were straight. Dallon heard that some people couldn’t handle it, and that they’d just kill themselves to get out of the camps. 

 

Dallon nodded. “Yeah, I can imagine.”

 

“They keep trying to get me to admit that I’m just a perverted man, but I’m not,” Breezy said. “And I’m not going to lie and say that I am, just to get out of there. I’m not going to let them break me.”

 

“I’m probably going to lie,” Dallon said. “No offense.”

 

“None taken,” she said. She looked up at Dallon, and he felt like he was being judged. “But you’ll probably hate yourself a little, when you do. And then you’ll constantly be checking to make sure that no one’s noticed that you’re just as gay as before, and that no one will see you in the company of another guy ever again, because of course they’ll think it’s you being gay.”

 

“You sound like you’re talking from personal experience.”

 

“I was a gay man before I was a trans woman, and they tried to abuse that out of me, too,” Breezy said. Dallon frowned. His mother still hadn’t shown up, and he had his phone on him if she ever decided to show up and he wasn’t there any more. 

 

“You wanna go grab dinner and vent?” Dallon asked. “I know it’s not Friday, but I think we both need it.”

 

Breezy nodded. She drove them to their usual place, and they settled down in the booth in the back corner. Dallon folded his jacket and placed it in the seat beside him, and then leaned forward to address the woman across from him. “Talk to me.”

 

And Breezy did. She knew a lot about the LGBT community, and all of the bullshit they had to go through just to exist in peace. She referred to them as the queer community a lot, and while Dallon understood that, yeah, that’s what he and Breezy were, technically, he wasn’t a fan of the term. It’d been thrown at his face too many times back in Utah. He didn’t have good memories with that term. But he wasn’t about to stop Breezy and tell her that she had to use a clunky acronym instead of a single word that had started riots and started awareness. 

 

She mentioned polyamory, and dating multiple people at once, which threw Dallon for a moment. He didn’t get it; how could a person be involved in multiple people without feeling guilty about it? Breezy shrugged. “Well, it’s not for everyone, you know. But it’s also not a bad thing. It’s not cheating, and sometimes the people you date are dating each other, too, so it’s like a giant dating circle.”

 

“I still don’t think I could do that,” Dallon said. 

 

“Then don’t,” Breezy said. “It’s a lot like being gay, or trans. You don’t have to be it to be okay with it. Me being trans, or queer, or dating three people at the same time, it doesn’t affect your life.”

 

“I bet that pisses off a lot of people, though,” Dallon said. 

 

Breezy laughed. “Yeah, they’re all so jealous. Can’t even get one person to go out with them, and yet here I am, dating multiple people at the same time.”

 

“I’m guessing you’re polyamorous, then?” Dallon said. Breezy nodded. Dallon waited a moment, trying to decide if he’d be considered nosy for asking her, but he figured that their friendship was already abnormal enough. There were boundaries, sure, because any relationship had to have boundaries or it would get weird, but this wasn’t a normal friendship. This was a friendship based on shared trauma, and shared hardships. So Dallon asked, “are you dating anyone now?”

 

“Nah,” Breezy said. “Nothing serious. It’s a lot harder now that my parents are trying to restrict what I can and cannot do with myself. Which is ridiculous, by the way. I’m an adult, I shouldn’t still have to answer to my mom and dad about what’s acceptable and what’s not.”

 

“I know, right?” Dallon said, and they easily fell into a conversation about how ridiculous their parents were. It was a relief, to find someone else who was in as ridiculous of a situation as Dallon, and for that person to be willing to talk about it. They spent over two hours in that booth, even after they’d eaten their food and ordered desserts just so that they didn’t feel bad for hogging a table during the dinner rush. When Dallon finally looked down at his watch to see what time it was, it was dark outside and he had four missed calls from his mother. He gave Breezy a guilty smile. “I should probably be heading home, before my mother starts really freaking out.”

 

“I should be getting back, too,” Breezy said. “Do you want me to drive you home? And, are we going to meet Friday since we hung out today?”

 

“If you want to,” Dallon said. The two got up from the table and Dallon left a handful of bills on the table as a tip. “We could always change from getting lunch on Friday to meeting up after the meeting for dinner and discussion.”

 

“Potentially,” Breezy said. “But I’m supposed to be going to my family’s church for their Wednesday night activities. I can excuse this, though, since it was last minute and only a one time thing. Fridays are easier for me to get out of the house, since no one in my family is doing anything. My younger siblings have school, and sometimes I have to go pick them up or take them to sporting events, but none of that happens in the middle of the day.”

 

“Then we’ll stick with Friday lunch,” Dallon said. 

 

* * *

 

**March 12, 2003; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

It had been two weeks since Martin and Margaret started interrogating the people in the meetings. The anticipation and anxiety in the room were palpable now, and were starting to get to Dallon. He had no idea what they’d come at him with, but he could imagine. They’d be things he’d heard before: he was sinning, he was going against God’s commandment that love was only between a man and a woman, that he’d go to hell if he never kissed a woman, that his love wasn’t real or was a result from some weird trauma from his childhood. 

 

He’d heard it all before. He knew it would still hurt. 

 

“Mr. Dallon Weekes,” Margaret said. Her reading glasses were low on her nose, and she looked up over them to stare at Dallon. She’d slicked her hair back with hairspray, or hair gel, and it made her look like some kind of 1950s military lady. “We’re going to be starting with you today, since you’ve been here for a few months. What brings you here to Christ the King?”

 

“I’m,” Dallon started to say. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest, and he could feel the pads of his fingertips getting sweaty the way they did whenever he was really nervous. He swallowed thickly, ignored how Breezy was watching him and how the rest of the room had suddenly turned their attention to him, and said, “I’m gay. I got caught kissing a guy in college, and they kicked me out and my parents sent me here to try and make me straight.”

 

If he was Breezy, or if he had more confidence in him, he would have added that it was impossible to make someone straight. That wasn’t how sexuality worked. It was fluid, for some people, but it wasn’t changeable. It was fixed. Dallon was gay. He’d still be gay in five years, regardless of what happened within the confines of this room. 

 

“Mr. Weekes, homosexuality is clearly stated to be a sin,” Margaret said. She glanced down at her notes, like she was looking to see just how far down the road of homosexuality Dallon had gone. Pretty far, actually. Past the point of no return. “And your mother, when she signed you up for these meetings, said you’re a member of the Church of Latter Day Saints--”  _ you can just say Mormon _ , Dallon thought, but he kept his mouth shut, “--so surely you’ve been taught that man cannot lie with another man.”

 

“I never said I had sex with another man,” Dallon said, even though he had. He just wanted to clarify, and let Margaret know that, according to her weird version of the Bible, technically Dallon hadn’t done anything wrong. At least as far as she knew. 

 

Margaret frowned, pursing her lips in that disappointed mother way. “You need to be honest, Mr. Weekes. The only way you’ll be able to get into Heaven is if you confess to your wrong-doings. That includes lying, your homosexual tendencies, and any premarital sex you may have had while you were away in college.”

 

“Okay,” Dallon said, because if they were going to make this into a competition, Dallon was going to win. “Then, I have had sex with men. And it was pretty great, actually, and I’m more upset that I did it with someone I didn’t have an emotional connection to than the fact I had sex with another guy.”

 

“So you feel remorse for what you did?” Martin asked. Dallon shrugged. If he could go back and not have sex with those few guys, he wouldn’t change much. He’d just try getting to know them first, because Dallon was pretty sure that sex would be better if he knew his partner. The few times he’d had sex had just been about getting to orgasm. No connection, no real feelings. Dallon could do that on his own. He didn’t regret the sex, he just regretted rushing into it. 

 

Martin nodded, thoughtfully. “Now you must repent of your sinful ways. You have to teach yourself to not look at men with lust, or to look at anyone with lust, as lust is one of the seven deadly sins and can only lead you on a path to hell.”

 

He went on, his voice getting louder and more like someone preaching, and Dallon did his best to not tune him out entirely. Breezy was startling to bristle beside him, but Dallon wasn’t all that offended by what was being said to him. He’d heard it before, and it had hurt a lot more when it came out of his father’s mouth. Dallon didn’t have any connection to Martin. Martin was just a Catholic man who thought that all gays went to hell. 

 

And maybe they did, but so what? Dallon believed in a God who cared more about a person’s character than who they took to bed. So long as all of the people involved were consenting, Dallon didn’t see why it would matter, or why God would be upset. Sex had long ago stopped being a means of production, and had become a means of displaying intimate affection. Maybe God frowned upon the circumstances in which Dallon lost his virginity, but Dallon was pretty sure he wouldn’t be sent to hell just because he was a horny, curious college freshman. Really, who could blame him? It was his first taste of freedom, of course he was going to make some questionable decisions. 

 

Anyone who didn’t try some stupid things in college wasn’t really living, at least as far as Dallon was concerned. 

 

“Mr. Weekes, you need to take this seriously,” Margaret said, pulling Dallon out of his train of thought. Dallon looked up at her, from where he had been staring off at the cross hung on the wall. At least there was no bleeding Jesus on it. That would make even the loosest of Christians feel guilty for their supposed sins. 

 

Dallon nodded, curtly. “I am paying attention. And I do want forgiveness, for not waiting to have sex until I was in love with the person. Sex shouldn’t just be a casual affair, I know that now. And I want God to know that.”

 

“That is not enough!” Margaret said, and she actually thumped her fist against her notes. Dallon had always assumed that Bible thumping Christians were just a myth made up by people who had bad experiences in the church and wanted to make Christians seem more radical than they really were. But apparently, there were people out there who thumped their Bibles, or their schedules, in the name of Jesus Christ. “You have sinned, Dallon. You have had laid with another man, and instead of admitting that was your wrong-doing, you’re making up nonsense about being in love with another man. That’s not love, Dallon. Love, real love, the kind that Jesus Christ wished for us, is between a man and a woman, and it is sacred.”

 

“Love isn’t exclusive,” Dallon said. “And besides, there are different kinds of love. What I feel for my friends isn’t the same that I’d feel for my boyfriend, if I were to ever have one.”

 

“I sure hope you don’t,” Martin said. He was frowning, like a dad who’d just caught his daughter and her boyfriend going for third base in the back of his car. Or, more accurately, a dad who’d just caught his  _ son  _ and his boyfriend. Martin leaned forward, over the little podium that had been added to the room to give Martin and Margaret a sense of authority over these people. “I don’t want you to fall farther into your sins, Dallon. No one here wants that. We’re on your side, and we want you to see the light of God.”

 

“And when we get angry, it is only because we want the best for you,” Margaret added. “We want to get to see you when we are all entering the kingdom of heaven. We don’t want you falling into the pits of hell because you couldn’t resist your homosexual urges.”

 

“Well,” Dallon said, the anxiety starting to creep back in. “I guess I’ll work on that, then. Resisting and all that jazz.”

 

* * *

 

**March 14, 2003; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

The Mediterranean restaurant was done up in greens and four leaf clovers. Dallon didn’t even get to comment on it before Breezy was burying her face in her hands and saying, “I can’t believe you said that. No one sasses back at them.”

 

“No one?”

 

“Well, not in the seven months I’ve been there,” Breezy said. She raised her head and pushed her hair away from her face, staring Dallon down. She was a very pretty woman. She narrowed her eyes at Dallon, like she was looking for something in him that made him special, made him stick out from all of the other people at those meetings. “They’re going to wear you down, you know. No matter how snarky or smart you think you can be, they’ll figure out a way to get in under your skin. They’ve gotten under mine enough times, but I’m refusing to crack out of spite.”

 

“Are you suggesting I do the same?” Dallon asked. “Remain aggressively gay to spite them?”

 

Breezy shrugged. “I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just telling you my story, and letting you interpret it however you wish.”

 

“Well, time to break open the old rainbow flag again, then,” Dallon said, a lopsided grin on his face. Breezy wasn’t grinning back. Dallon was missing something. His smile fell, and he messed with his drink for a moment. “Did they… did they ever send you to one of those camps? When you refused to do what they said?”

 

“I was seventeen when I told my parents I liked boys,” Breezy said, slowly. It was like she was pulling off a Bandaid, except the Bandaid was verbal and the wound under it wasn’t fully healed yet. “We’d just moved from California to here, and they’d been getting into this whole radical Christianity shit, and it was just a really bad decision for me to come out to them. They didn’t want to put me in a camp, thankfully, but they kept throwing me around in search of someone who would fix me.”

 

She paused, put on a smile and acted normal for a moment and acted like she wasn’t just revealing her tragic backstory as the waiter gave them their food. Breezy watched them, her eyes blank and a little guarded, like she was afraid that the waiter had overheard what she’d been saying. She waited a bit after he left, taking a few bites from her food. “I tried to kill myself after about a year of going there, because I couldn’t keep resisting their bullshit. I thought that I could convince them that they were wrong, and that there wasn’t anything wrong with me, but it wasn’t working. I was just a teenage kid, and the two people who were hosting the meetings then--not Martin and Margaret--were middle aged people who had never even thought about questioning their sexuality.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Dallon said. He’d never been suicidal, or depressed or whatever it was that made people want to kill themselves. “Why’re your parents sending you back, if you tried to kill yourself the last time you were there?”

 

“Because they thought I attempted to kill myself because I was angry I couldn’t stop being gay,” she said, bitterly. “And then when I figured out that I was trans, I got the money to transition myself, and I was trying to get out of their house so I’d never have to see them again. That didn’t work, though, but I’m still paying for my transition, and it’s not like my parents can stop me. They’re not legally in charge of me anymore, but until I can get out of the house, I have to at least attempt to appease them.”

 

“We’ll get out of here,” Dallon said. “I’ve never been to California, but if you want to go there and you don’t mind the company…”

 

Breezy smiled. “I don’t mind. California’s pretty great, and it’ll be a lot easier to pay for an apartment if I’m not doing it alone.”

 

“I could find a new band,” Dallon said. “Maybe even one that’s openly gay.”

 

“That’d be pretty cool. A band that didn’t hide it’s seuxality.”

 

“Well, I mean, it’s 2003. It’s about time people can be open about their sexuality without being shamed for it,” Dallon said. “Forget about these backwards people, and their assumptions about what is and what isn’t okay. You’re gonna become a brilliant actress and make Hollywood regret not accepting you earlier, and I’ll be playing shows with my gay band.”

 

“And when people ask how we met,” Breezy said, a grin spreading across her face. “We can make up stories about our pasts. Lie and change it up every time. The paparazzi will never know which story is the truth, even if we decide to come clean in some random interview.”

 

“Oh, man, the world’s not ready for us,” Dallon said. 

 

“Yeah, see, this is the real reason the world doesn’t let queer people do shit; they’re afraid we’ll be too good at what we do and then the straights will never be able to get famous,” Breezy said. “They’re too mediocre. They’ve never really lived.”

 

“We have,” Dallon said. Breezy nodded in agreement. They really had lived, the two of them. There was something about being gay, or trans, or any kind of “other” that made a person more interesting. Dallon wished he had known about his sexuality when he’d been in the Brobecks, because maybe then the songs he wrote would have been interesting enough to get the band noticed. Dallon had written the band's songs based on what he thought would get them attention, not based on what he felt. 

 

He’d go back and change that, now, if he could. 

 

* * *

 

**August 5, 2004; North Platte, Nebraska.**

 

It was the middle of the night, but Spencer couldn’t sleep and he could hear Brendon rustling around on the other bed. At least he wasn’t alone. He shifted over so that he was laying on his back and looking up at the ceiling, and then waited until Brendon stopped moving around for a moment. Spencer pushed his hair off of his forehead. He whispered, “Brendon, are you up?”

 

The sheets rustled some more and then Spencer heard a soft thump as Brendon left his and Dallon’s bed. He padded over to Spencer, who rolled over onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow to watch Brendon. Brendon knelt beside Spencer’s bed, and in the shadows, Spencer thought he could see a bit of a smirk on Brendon’s face. Brendon was definitely looking at Spencer. “Yeah, I’m up. You wanna go run around town while no one will be awake to stop us?”

 

“What kind of weird Mormon rebellion…” Spencer muttered, but he was already getting out of bed and gathering some things to change into. He grabbed his binder, because he didn’t want to go out without it, even if it was the middle of the night and Brendon didn’t care if Spencer was hiding his chest or not. Spencer cared. Spencer didn’t want anyone seeing him as a girl when he so clearly wasn’t. 

 

“Come on, Spence,” Brendon whispered, somehow managing to make it sound like he was whining as well. He tugged on Spencer’s shirt as Spencer tied up his shoes. “Let’s goooo.”

 

“Stop being whiny,” Spencer said, and elbowed Brendon gently. He stood up, and grabbed Brendon’s hand, and the two of them left the motel behind. They stood out in the parking lot, under the artificial lights, and watched a man and someone who looked to be his mistress exit the motel office and slink off to one of the rooms at the end of the building. Spencer leaned over and kissed Brendon, and Brendon kissed back. They made out in the middle of the parking lot for a while, until Brendon pulled back and placed his hands on Spencer’s shoulders. “Where do you want to go?”

 

“I think there are some neighbourhoods behind the motel,” Spencer said. “Wanna go act like teenage hooligans?”

 

“Yeah,” Brendon said, nodding aggressively. 

 

The two meandered around through the neighbourhoods, hand in hand. All of the houses were dark, but the streetlights were still on and so Spencer was able to see where they were. He hoped that Brendon was paying attention to where they were walking, because Spencer wasn't the best when it came to remembering directions and he really didn't want to end up lost in a random neighborhood in Nebraska with his not boyfriend. Spencer didn't know much about Nebraska, but he had a feeling that they weren't the most open and accepting of people, and he didn't want himself or Brendon to get attacked for being openly gay at two in the morning. 

 

“Hey, Spence, look,” Brendon said, tugging on Spencer's hand. “There's a football field. We should jump the gate and see if there's anything interesting there.”

 

“It's probably just a high school, but sure,” Spencer said, and strode ahead of Brendon to get to the fence first. He'd jumped fences before, back in Las Vegas with Ryan when they wanted to go swimming at night even though the pool was closed. The pool was never covered during the summer, which made it even easier to break into. 

 

Spencer dropped down onto the other side of the fence, and grinned at Brendon. “Your turn.”

 

“How are you so good at that?” Brendon asked as he attempted to hook his foot into the fence to get up on it. “What are you, some kind of criminal? Did you and Ryan sneak into private property all the time or what?”

 

“Watch your footing,” Spencer said, before Brendon could fall off the fence and onto his ass. “And no, I'm not a criminal. Ryan and I just snuck into the neighborhood pool after hours a lot. You get pretty good at climbing a fence after while.”

 

Brendon climbed over the rest of the fence, wobbling at the top when he tried to figure out how to get all the way over without falling onto his face. He jumped down to land beside Spencer, and his landing was a lot more graceful than Spencer’s. Spencer figured that Brendon had done gymnastics or something when he was a child, and that was why he landed like a cat. 

 

Brendon rubbed his hands together. “Now what?”

 

“You’re the one who wanted to hop the fence,” Spencer said. 

 

“You’re the one who knew how to hop a fence,” Brendon countered.

 

Spencer rolled his eyes. “It’s really not that hard. And just because I know how to do something that isn’t entirely illegal, doesn’t mean I’m some kind of mastermind. We’ve gone over this. I’m not the impulsive one, in any situation.”

 

“You did decide to move to Chicago like a week before we left,” Brendon said. Spencer figured that he had a point. But Spencer hadn’t been irrational, he’d just waited until the last minute to decide what he was doing. He could understand why Brendon thought he was being impulsive, though. His mom certainly thought that he was. 

 

They ended up walking around the football field, occasionally talking about random things (the band, their pasts, their favourite bands) but mostly enjoying each other’s company. The sky was still dark when Brendon asked Spencer if he wanted to go lie in the grass and watch the stars for a bit, and Spencer said yes. He knew it sounded cheesy and romantic, but he didn’t care. Whenever Brendon wanted to define what he and Spencer were, Spencer would let him. But until then, Spencer wasn’t making any assumptions. He was a casual guy, when it came to dating and making out and all that. He didn’t really feel the need to label what he was with other people, unless they wanted to. 

 

The grass was cool under Spencer, and he scooted closer to Brendon to try and steal some of his warmth. It wasn’t particularly cold out, but Spencer was in one of his thinner t-shirts and the dew on the grass was starting to soak through the fabric. 

 

Brendon turned his head to Spencer. “Are you a virgin?”

 

“No,” Spencer said, not looking directly at Brendon because he was not about to have sex outside in the middle of a football field. And Brendon had a dick, whereas Spencer didn’t (unfortunately), so any sex they had would be pretty damn risky, and Spencer didn’t want to have to call home in a month and tell his mother that her gay son was having a baby because he impulsively had sex with a guy on a football field. Spencer folded his hands behind his head. “Are you?”

 

“...no.” Brendon said. Spencer could tell he was lying, though. He turned his head towards Brendon and raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure about that?”

 

“Yeah,” Brendon said, defensively. “I’ve had sex. Not, like, a lot or anything, but I’ve had sex. Before.”

 

“I don’t believe you,” Spencer said. He sat up on his elbows so that he was looming over Brendon. Brendon was just staring at him. He wasn’t moving in any direction. It was like he was waiting on Spencer to make his move, and do something. So Spencer did something. He moved so that he was on top of Brendon, caging him in with his limbs, and then he leaned down and kissed him. It was slow kissing, at first, the two boys just getting a feel for each other’s mouths again. It didn’t stay slow, because they were teenagers and they didn’t know how to keep it slow. 

 

There were tongues, and Spencer learned that Brendon liked being bitten, and Spencer could feel Brendon’s erection pressing against his pants. Spencer didn’t ignore it, but he didn’t address it directly. He pressed down against Brendon’s hips, grinding his crotch against Brendon, and Brendon made a noise against Spencer’s mouth, pressing back. Spencer tangled his hands in Brendon’s overgrown hair, pulling his head back a little so that Spencer could kiss down his neck. Brendon had really nice hair. It was warm and thick, and soft between Spencer’s fingers. 

 

Brendon was really hard against Spencer, and his hips kept jerking up against him. Spencer knew he’d have to do something, and while he wasn’t appalled at the idea of having sex with Brendon, he didn’t want to be an idiot about it. Spencer sat up, still straddling Brendon, and with his ass pressed against Brendon's erection. He splayed his fingers out across Brendon's chest, feeling him breathing heavily. Spencer curled his fingers a little, knowing that if Brendon was shirtless he'd be digging his nails into Brendon and seeing if Brendon liked it or not. “What are we doing?”

 

“I don't know,” Brendon breathed out. “But I really don't want to stop. You feel good.”

 

“I know what I'm doing, and I know I don't want to have any kind of unprotected sex,” Spencer said. So what if it ruined the mood? Brendon was seventeen, he'd be fine in like ten minutes and then he and Spencer could try again later when they had condoms and a surface to lay on that wasn't wet grass. Spencer ran his hand down Brendon's stomach, sliding it up under his shirt. Brendon gasped at the contact. Spencer was right. Brendon was probably still a virgin and just pretending he wasn't because he wanted to impress Spencer. 

 

Not that Spencer cared all that much. He'd stopped caring about who got laid and who didn't the moment he and Ryan came out. There were more important things than someone's sexual history. 

 

“Spence, please,” Brendon moaned out, and Spencer felt Brendon's cock twitch under him. It was a weird sensation, but not a bad one. Spencer had never considered taking a dick up his ass, even before coming to terms with his gender, and he thought about it for a second before deciding that, no, that didn't sound pleasant, he'd keep his asshole nice and untouched for now. 

 

“What do you want me to do?” Spencer said. He moved his hand up Brendon's bare chest to play with his nipple, which was hard. Spencer was turned on, too, but he didn't have to make a big deal about it. He was enjoying watching Brendon squirm. 

 

Brendon let out a really loud moan when Spencer flicked his nipple, so Spencer did it again and wiggled his ass on Brendon's dick. Brendon whined and bucked his hips up. Spencer leaned down and started kissing Brendon again, and Brendon kissed back, even as Spencer moved his hands across Brendon's torso and played with his nipples some more. 

 

Spencer pinched Brendon's nipples, hard. Brendon made a really loud noise again, and leaned his head back, panting. “Shit, Spence--aahh!”

 

He jerked his hips against Spencer again, and came. His eyes closed and his mouth went slack, and he looked thoroughly blissed out. Spencer say back and stared at Brendon, a little bit in awe. He'd never made someone look like that before. Spencer didn't know if it was because Brendon was a virgin, or because Spencer had finally figured the whole sex thing out. 

 

Spencer blinked. “You just came in your pants.”

 

Brendon covered his face with his hands. “Ah, fudge. Please don't think I'm lame or anything, I don't usually do this.”

 

“Brendon, I don't care that you're inexperienced. I just think it's funny that you came in your pants,” Spencer said. He bit his hand to keep from laughing, because Brendon seemed genuinely embarrassed and Spencer didn't want him to actually be upset. Spencer slid off of Brendon to give him some room to breathe, and then ruffled his hair. “But we should probably get back to the motel, so that you can get rid of your pants. Or clean them, or whatever.”

 

“What about you?” Brendon asked, slowly sitting up. He looked pretty debauched. “You didn't get off, or whatever the, um. You didn't get off.”

 

“Would you even know what to do with a vagina if you saw one?” Spencer asked. He usually wasn't so brash when talking about his lack of a dick, but if Brendon couldn't even admit to Spencer not having a dick, then there was no point in letting him jerk Spencer off. Spencer wasn't sex repulsed or anything, but he did get dysphoric sometimes, when it came to his lack of a dick. He tried to ignore it. 

 

Brendon looked away. “I… I don't know.”

 

“Then don't worry about it,” Spencer said. “Later, if we ever get around to it in a place that isn't a field, I’ll show you how it's done, but right now your pants are probably starting to get nasty and also I really don't want someone to find us on this field.”

 

“Who's gonna be out in the middle of the night?” Brendon asked, sitting up and making a face. Spencer raised his eyebrows, and motioned between the two of them. Brendon ducked his head. “Okay, true. I guess we should go back to the motel then. I was just looking forward to getting you off.”

 

“Because you're a virgin?”

 

“Well, I just had sex--”

 

“Me teasing you and grinding on you until you come in your pants doesn't count as sex.”

 

“It's close enough,”Brendon said. He sat up fully, and let Spencer pull him up into a standing position. Brendon hooked his thumbs into his pockets. “So, I lied, earlier, when I said I’d had sex before. I knew you had, or at least had done something somewhat sex-ish, and I didn’t want you to think that I was some weird kid who couldn’t even get a single kiss from anyone, because that’s not true. I’ve kissed people before, and I’ve made out with people before, I’ve just never gone all the way.”

 

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” Spencer said. When Brendon looked at him like he didn’t believe what Spencer was saying, Spencer sighed and continued, “okay, it’s a big deal to some people, and sometimes the first time you have sex is this big, momentous occasion and sparks fly and all that shit that they sell us in boring Hallmark movies, but that’s not always how it is. Sometimes, you have sex with someone, and it’s great or just okay or whatever, and then when it’s over, you’re still the same person. I mean, you’re no longer a virgin, but, like, no one really notices a difference, just because you’ve orgasmed because of someone else for once.”

 

“Right,” Brendon said. He frowned, and stared at the grass. “I don’t know. I was just hoping that I’d have sex, and suddenly my whole life would change. And it’d be like the end of this chapter of my life, and I’d get to move on to cooler things.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“I don’t know,” Brendon said. “I assumed that having sex would make it so suddenly I would know what all the cooler things in life were.”

 

“Pretty sure that’s not how it works,” Spencer said. 

 

“I know. I was just hoping.”

 

“Sorry I couldn’t give you a cool view of the post-sex life,” Spencer said. Brendon’s face fell, and Spencer realised he probably felt guilty about everything that had happened. Maybe even assumed that Spencer was mad at him, or thought that Brendon had just used him for sex. Spencer didn’t think either of those things, because he wasn’t an idiot or that insecure of himself, and he didn’t let himself have high expectations, just in case things didn’t work out. “And I’m sorry I made you come in your pants. At least no one was around to see?”

 

“Why would anyone be watching us have sex?” Brendon said. His eyes darted around the field, like he was waiting for a camera crew to arrive and start clapping and congratulating the two of them on their performance. 

 

Spencer shrugged. “I heard that there are some people who are into that. Watching people have sex.”

 

“That’s weird,” Brendon made a face. 

 

“People are weird,” Spencer countered. He leaned in and kissed Brendon again, because he still liked kissing Brendon, even if Brendon was a lot clueless as to how to do anything below the waist. He was still cute, he was still endearing, and Spencer still liked the feel of his mouth. They kissed until Brendon started to squirm a little, and Spencer pulled back. “Wait, are you…?”

 

“No, it's just all dry and weird now,” Brendon said. “We should go back. Like, now. I don't want to wear these pants ever again.”

 

* * *

 

**March 22, 2003; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

“Mom, I can get groceries on my own,” Dallon insisted for what had to have been the fiftieth time that morning. His mother was convinced that Dallon would have sex with any man he saw if he was let out alone, which was a ridiculous idea to have. It wasn't like Dallon had been going around Provo and Salt Lake City having sex with the entire gay male population. He wasn't obsessed with sex. He didn't have a constant need to be fucking men. He was just a regular guy, who happened to find other guys attractive. 

 

“I don't want you falling back on your old vices,” she said. They were in the living room, with Dallon behind the couch and his mother with her back to the TV, and they were having another show down. These were more frequent than Dallon wanted, and he was pretty sure that his relationships with his parents were slowly deteriorating. His father barely talked to him. His mother only talked to him to remind him that he was full of sin in her eyes, and that she no longer trusted him with anything. He couldn't even leave the house to go get groceries. 

 

“I'll be gone for maybe thirty minutes,” Dallon said. “What exactly do you think I do in thirty minutes that'll ruin me?”

 

“You'd be surprised,” she said. “Men like you often turn into lustful predators.”

 

That hurt. Dallon had to admit that that hurt. He could handle his parents calling him a sinner, and saying he'd be going to hell. They had a different view on what was right and what was wrong, and Dallon could let that go. But it hurt to have his own mother call him a predator. A sexual predator, like Dallon wanting to kiss consenting, adult men somehow made him as vile as the pedophiles in that group. 

 

Dallon held onto the couch, digging his fingers into the fabric. He swallowed thickly, and realised he was closer to breaking down and crying than he had thought. “I'm not a predator, mom.”

 

“I'm not saying you are--”  _ yes you are, yes you are _ , Dallon thought, clenching his jaw tightly to keep himself from saying anything out loud to her. “--but homosexuals are known for being far too sexual. It's disgusting, really, how all they can think about is sex.”

 

“I'm going to go get groceries, mom,” Dallon said, deciding that he was done with the conversation and that he could deal with the fallout of ignoring his mother later. He leaned over the couch and snatched the car keys off of the coffee table. He already had his shoes on, and was ready to go, so he stormed from the house and into the garage, ignoring his mother calling after him. He was going to have to start ignoring his mother a lot more now, since she seemed determined to keep Dallon in the house until he decided to be straight. Dallon stomped down the stairs in the garage and opened the garage door before fleeing to the confines of the Brobecks van and turning the engine on. 

 

There was no CD in the CD player, and Dallon desperately needed something to distract himself from his mother's words. They were circling around in his head, and endless loop of how he was a disappointment to his entire family and how he would never be welcome in his family's house so long as he was honest about who he was. 

 

Dallon pulled out a random CD and threw it in. The first song came on, and Dallon tapped his fingers to the beat as he drove to the grocery store. He could have gone to the one about ten minutes from the house, but he wanted to stall so he drove towards downtown. He'd get the stuff the house needed from a store downtown, and then he'd come back and deal with his mother. 

 

He found a Smith’s and parked away from the entrance to give himself some time to angrily walk across the parking lot. Dallon grabbed a cart even though he was only getting a few things for his mother. He was just stalling. He was stalling, and not thinking about what was waiting for him back at home, and how he had no idea how to make his mother think he was straight. He needed something. He needed Breezy’s help. She’d figured out how to survive all of this without losing her mind. 

 

She’d tried to kill herself, though. But she’d been eighteen, and Dallon was pretty sure that she hadn’t done it since. She would have told him. They were friends. There wasn’t any reason for Breezy to keep something like that from Dallon, not any more. Dallon would tell her if there was something going horrifically wrong in his life. 

 

Dallon had been wandering up and down the food aisles of the Smith’s for about fifteen minutes before he realised that he had no idea where the juice was. Luckily enough, there was a person in a dark grey apron stocking the shelves near him. Dallon straightened up, squaring his shoulders and making himself look more like an adult with his life together than he really was, and then he pushed his cart up to the guy stocking the shelves. Dallon cleared his throat. “Hey, um, I don’t usually shop here, so I don’t know where anything is… can you tell me which aisle the juice is on?”

 

The guy turned around, and Dallon was surprised by how young he looked. The guy had to still be in high school. Everything about his face was young and bright and untarnished by the tiring reality of adulthood. His nametag said  _ Brendon _ . Brendon smiled and nodded up at Dallon. “It’s on aisle seven. I can take you there if you’d like?”

 

“I’m fine, thanks,” Dallon said. Dallon smiled at the guy, trying to be friendly and not have Brendon think that he was a rude person or anything. Dallon headed to aisle seven, in search of juice yet again. He found it, and added a bottle of grape to the cart. He didn’t think about the bright faced guy named Brendon, who was probably just a few years younger than Dallon, and had a job. Dallon wouldn’t mention that to his mother, because she’d only frown and judge him silently, not mentioning that the reason Dallon didn’t have a job of his own was because his parents didn’t trust him outside of their house. 

 

Dallon still wasn’t sure how he was able to hang out with Breezy, but he wasn’t about to go and ask his parents. He didn’t want to risk it. 

 

* * *

 

**March 26, 2003; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

Dallon followed Breezy out of the door. Martin and Margaret were still trying to get Dallon to admit that his sexuality was wrong, and Dallon was still refusing to do so. He wasn't mad anymore, he just wasn't going to let them win. He was gay, he loved men, he wasn't going to stop loving men just because some people thought he was destined for hell. Their idea of God and Dallon's idea of God just didn't match up, and Dallon was fine with that. 

 

He was not fine with how they demonised people who were different. 

 

“So, you're holding up really well,” Breezy said as the rest of the people from the meeting started to disperse away from her and Dallon. “Should I be worried about your mental health yet, or did you finally figure out the magical, not self-destructive coping mechanism that we've all been searching for?”

 

“Neither,” Dallon said. “I'm still trying to figure out where God fits into all of this.”

 

“Maybe He doesn't,” Breezy said. “Maybe He's just something that people use to justify their shitty behaviour.”

 

“I don't believe that,” Dallon said. He meant it. He believed in God, he just wasn't sure how his belief meshed with the reality he was currently in. Dallon just wanted some clarification. He knew God was real; the universe just made more sense that way. He just wanted to know who was right about God: himself or Martin and Margaret. 

 

Breezy shrugged. “Well, to each their own. Is your mom here yet, or do you have time to hang out for a bit before disappearing again until Friday?”

 

She sounded like she was accusing him of purposely avoiding her whenever they weren’t in those meetings or having lunch at the Mediterranean place. Breezy wasn’t entirely wrong, because Dallon was avoiding her, but it wasn’t of his own doing. He had hoped that, since Breezy was also an adult living with her parents, she would understand how that was a weird dynamic and an even weirder situation to be in. Dallon had hoped that she wouldn’t judge him for not having any autonomy to come and go as he pleased. He let out a sigh; they were standing in front of the exit doors, and Dallon couldn’t see his mother’s car outside. “It’s not like I’m avoiding you, you know. I just can’t get out of the house, unless I have a very good reason and my mother can’t think of a way for me to secretly be having sex with men.”

 

“She doesn’t trust you very much, does she?” Breezy asked. Dallon nodded, even though he knew it was just a rhetorical question. Some rhetorical questions still needed to be answered, and that was one of them. Breezy crossed her arms over her chest, looking out through the doors and into the parking lot. “I get that. My parents are friends with Martin, though, so it’s not like I could get away with skipping, even if I thought about it.”

 

“You’ve never thought about it?” Dallon asked. 

 

Breezy shook her head. “Where would I go? I don’t have enough money to leave, or I would have already. You’re my only friend here, and you’re a hermit most of the time. And you’re still living with your parents, and I’m pretty sure they’d realise what I was in a moment and then we’d probably never get to hang out ever again.”

 

“I don’t think they’d realise you were trans,” Dallon said. “Not unless I told them. Which I wouldn’t. Obviously.”

 

“Well, I’m glad that you think that, but I’m lucky if I pass off as a cis woman,” Breezy said. “I’m doing all of this on my own, without anyone helping or supporting me, and I know I’m not where I should be, or who I should be, and it haunts me. Like, I’ve got all this potential, but because I’ve got a dick in my pants, suddenly I’m just a freak or nature in everyone’s eyes, and no one will even give me a chance.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Dallon said. 

 

“Me too, Dallon,” she said, quietly. It was the second time Dallon had seen Breezy look like she didn’t have her entire life in control. The first was that time in the restaurant, when she admitted to having attempted to kill herself. Dallon still hadn’t processed that. The Breezy he knew and talked to and considered a friend was not the same Breezy who had tried to kill herself at age eighteen. They weren’t the same woman. They couldn’t be. 

 

“I’ll get you out of here,” Dallon said. Breezy arched one of her eyebrows up, and Dallon crossed his own arms over his chest. “If you need help, or anything. I’m not saying you couldn’t do it yourself, but since we’ll probably be getting out together, if you’re, like, short a few dollars or whatever, I’ll cover it.”

 

“I’ll just pay you back once we’re in LA and I’m on every billboard and you’re trying to get studio time for your new record,” Breezy said, and winked. “Or, I’ll let your band be on the soundtrack for whatever blockbuster film I’m in at the time, and that’ll be your big break.”

 

“Why do you assume you’ll be the first to get famous?” Dallon said.

 

“Because I will,” Breezy grinned. “I’ll be making headlines before you can even pull a demo out of your ass, Dal. And then you’ll realise, you’ve been hanging with the best talent the west coast has seen since… since someone really famous.”

 

“Since Julia Roberts?” Dallon offered. Breezy shrugged, like she would be even better than Julia Roberts. Considering how much of a tragic backstory she had, and how well she was hiding it, even from Dallon, he could believe her. But he’d also love to see Breezy remaking Pretty Woman, and not taking any shit from anyone. 

 

Breezy bumped her hip against Dallon’s. “That’s your mom’s car. Better go before you get in trouble.”

 

“How unfortunate,” Dallon said, and winked. Breezy winked back, and they agreed to meet again on Friday, just like they always did. Dallon would try to get out of the house more, maybe convince his mother that getting back into the real world would help him learn to be “normal” again. He’d really just be using it as an excuse to search for a job and hang out with Breezy, though. Because that was all he was looking forward to, at this point. He felt like he needed something a bit more than that. 

 

* * *

 

**August 5, 2004; North Platte, Nebraska.**

 

The office was still open, thankfully. Brendon had been making weird faces the entire way back to the motel, and Spencer was having a hard time not laughing at him. Spencer was no longer turned on, but he knew that if he gave Brendon the chance to try again, Brendon could get him turned on again and maybe they’d be able to do something other than grind against each other until Brendon came. 

 

The office was open, and there was a woman behind the desk who looked to be about the same age as Spencer’s grandmother. Spencer’s grandmother was also a staunch Catholic, who still didn’t understand how Spencer could be a boy if he’d come out of his mom and been labelled a girl. Spencer’s parents didn’t really talk to Spencer’s grandmother because of that, and spent more of their time with the other side of the family. But this lady didn’t look at all like Spencer’s grandmother, she was just the same age, and she was very small. 

 

She smiled at the boys as they approached the desk. “How can I help you two tonight?”

 

“Um, do you have a laundry?” Brendon said. His face was red. Spencer was pretty sure his face was also red, but he was at least trying not to act embarrassed. Brendon ran a hand through his hair, not making direct eye contact with anyone in the office. “I mean, do you have a place where we can do laundry? Some of our clothes got, um. They got messy. And, we need to clean them. So, yeah.”

 

“Oh, there’s a laundromat behind the Walmart. Do you two have a car?” She asked, already pulling out a sticky note to give them instructions. Spencer nodded, because Brendon was still being awkward, and one of them had to act like they had their shit together. It obviously wasn’t going to be Brendon, so Spencer had to step up and play the adult friend role, just like he usually did. Not that he minded, because for some reason, actual adults seemed to trust him. Spencer had no idea why, because he had a baby face and hung out with people who weren’t usually welcomed into church brunches, but it worked and it was helpful in a lot of situations.

 

“Alright, here are the directions,” the lady said, pointing to the sticky note she had just ripped off and placed on the counter in front of Spencer and Brendon. “It should still be twenty-four seven, but if it’s not, you two can always come back here and I’ll let you use the staff washing machines. I wouldn’t want to see a pair of young men out of luck just because they couldn’t get their clothes cleaned.”

 

She was smiling at them like they were all sharing some kind of joke. Spencer had no idea what the joke was supposed to be, but he smiled back and acted like he knew what he was doing, and then he and Brendon were leaving the office. 

 

“Should I change into something… not covered in spunk?” Brendon whispered in the parking lot. He and Spencer were the only ones outside. 

 

Spencer nodded. “Yeah, probably. But Brendon?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Please never say  _ spunk _ around me ever again. There are less weird words for that,” Spencer said. Brendon nodded, seriously, like never saying spunk was some kind of life or death promise he had just made to Spencer. 

 

The laundromat was empty except for one middle aged, white trash couple who scared Spencer more than they should have. There was just something unnerving about white people with thin, ragged hair and crooked, weirdly coloured teeth. It made Spencer think of the most backwards parts of the South, where people still got beaten to death for being gay or not fitting in. 

 

He was glad Ryan wasn't here. She'd probably be spotted in a heartbeat. At least Brendon didn't look too gay. Spencer let go of his hand so that the white trash couple wouldn’t look over at them and think they were gay (even though they were). Spencer pushed Brendon towards the nearest open washing machine, and Brendon dropped his dirty jeans and underwear into it before starting the machine. Brendon then climbed on top of the machine, and patted the empty space of metal beside him. “Come on, we’re gonna be here for a while.”

 

Spencer glanced over at the white trash couple again, who were now whispering at each other loudly. Spencer couldn’t tell if they were trying to make it that he and Brendon could overhear or not, but they weren’t enunciating well enough for Spencer to pick up individual words. Whatever they were talking about, they seemed irritated. 

 

Brendon nudged Spencer’s shoulder and whispered, more quietly than the couple, “dude, do you think they’re, like… homophobic or something?”

 

“I don’t know,” Spencer whispered back. He wanted to be holding Brendon’s hand, for security, but he was afraid that the couple over there would notice them sitting there, holding hands, and say something. Or worse, do something. “Maybe we should come back later, when the washing machine is done.”

 

“Where would we go?” Brendon asked. 

 

“I don’t know,” Spencer said. “But I don’t know if I want to be here. I just don’t feel super safe.”

 

* * *

 

**April 12, 2004; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

“Hey, you fucking fags, pay attention!” The guy yelled after Spencer and Ryan. Spencer dared to glance over his shoulder as he and Ryan were speed walking away, and he saw that the guy had collected a handful of friends, as well as some empty bottles. Probably from the recycling cans outside the school. The guys weren’t speeding up, but they had these grins on their faces, like Spencer and Ryan were just their next meal or something, and they were starving. 

 

Spencer turned back around, “Ryan--”

 

“Don’t look back,” Ryan said under her breath. She had her hands in the pockets of her uniform jacket, and she was purposely staring ahead. “Just keep moving, okay? Don’t look back.”

 

“Ryan, they’re more of them now,” Spencer said. He saw Ryan’s jaw clench, but she didn’t look all that phased by it. Spencer wondered if this wasn’t her first time facing bullies like this. Sure, she had an abusive dad, but Ryan knew how to avoid him. Maybe there was no way to avoid these guys, since they all went to school together, and Ryan was doing the only thing she could: keep moving. Sometimes it was best to just run away. Spencer was starting to learn that. 

 

“We need to get somewhere,” Ryan said. She didn’t specify where. “There’s a mall, but it’s like twenty five minutes away, walking, and I don’t know if we can make it that far.”

 

“My mom said she’d be here on time,” Spencer said, and didn’t look back to see if they were still there. He knew they were. He could hear them laughing. Ryan reached out and grabbed Spencer’s hand, and even though Spencer wasn’t sure how that would help, he squeezed back. One of the guys yelled out something, some slur that Spencer had heard at least three times already. He squeezed Ryan’s hand again. “She should be here already, I don’t know where she is.”

 

“You shouldn’t have come out,” Ryan said. They were getting pretty close to a road, and the light was red. There were cars going in and out of the intersection, and Spencer knew that if he and Ryan stopped moving, they’d be fucked. They couldn’t turn around, though, because then they’d be headed back to the school and that wouldn’t solve any of their problems. Ryan held Spencer’s hand tightly, and gripped her backpack strap with her other hand. “You should have just stayed in the closet, like I meant to, and then you wouldn’t be running with me and none of this would be happening.”

 

“Ryan, I would be on your side even if I was straight and cis,” Spencer said. There was a break in the traffic. Spencer made a decision and pulled Ryan out into the street before she could say anything. They sprinted to the other side and kept walking, fast like before. “You know that. I’m your best friend, and I’m not letting any of those dicks lay a hand on you.”

 

“And I’m not going to let them hurt you either,” Ryan snapped. They were at the crosswalk. The light was still red. Cars were still coming, keeping them from being able to cross and get away from the guys, who were getting closer now. “Which would be a lot easier if you hadn’t outed yourself. What exactly did you think that would do, Spencer? Did you think that everyone would be like, ‘oh, well, since we’ve got  _ two _ queer students, obviously we’re all in the wrong and we should be nice and welcoming instead of making them feel like absolute shit? Because that’s not how that works.”

 

“I didn’t want you to have to go through this alone!” Spencer said. The light turned green. There was still a little orange hand, telling them not to walk. Ryan started walking anyway. The guys were crossing over from the other side of the street. Spencer and Ryan had to get out of there. Spencer pulled Ryan along, even though she had longer legs and could probably move faster than Spencer. “I don’t know, I just didn’t want to see you going through all this bullshit alone.”

 

“There was probably a better way for you to do that,” Ryan said. She looked over her shoulder, even though she’d just told Spencer not to do that. 

 

“Yeah, well, we’re a little late for that,” Spencer said. “Come on, we need to move.”

 

“I am moving,” Ryan said, but she was walking faster anyway. Spencer didn’t know why they weren’t running, but maybe it was something about conserving energy, and how the guys chasing them could probably run for longer than Spencer and Ryan and would catch up to them eventually. Maybe Ryan was holding herself back so that she could sprint away if the guys chasing them got too close. Spencer had never been in this situation before. He had no idea what he was doing. He was pretty sure he was under prepared. 

 

Suddenly, something flew between Spencer and Ryan’s heads and smashed on the pavement in front of them. It was a glass bottle, and it had once held Coke. Ryan and Spencer looked at each other, wide eyed, and they both came to the same conclusion: run. They bolted, heading the same way. There was nothing around them, and a gated neighbourhood on the other side of the street. If they got caught here, no one would be watching. The people driving wouldn’t even bother to look over and see if anything weird was going on on the side of the road. 

 

There was a seven foot tall wall blocking Spencer and Ryan from someone’s backyard, and a neighbourhood that they could lose their attackers in. Spencer bolted around Ryan, gauging the wall as he got closer. There were foot holds, and Spencer knew he could get over that wall with no problem. He knew Ryan could too. Spencer launched himself at the wall, grabbing a hold of it and climbing up on top of it. He paused at the top for a moment, to make sure that Ryan was following him, and she was. She climbed up with no problem, using her long limbs to scale it easily. The drop down on the other side was the same as it was to get up on the wall, and so they just jumped down.

 

Spencer landed hard, and a spark of pain shot up his ankle, but he knew it wasn’t broken. Just in pain. He could have landed that better, but he was kind of in a rush. Ryan grabbed his hand again, and they ran down the driveway, not looking back even though Spencer could hear their attackers yelling from the other side of the fence. 

 

“Which way do we go?” Spencer asked. 

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Ryan said, and dragged him to the left. Spencer had no idea where they were going, but Ryan was right, and it didn’t matter. The guys were still behind them, and they were faster than Spencer and Ryan. There were too many streets in this neighbourhood, and they all seemed like dead ends. 

 

It didn’t take long before the guys (there were six of them now, and they were all still armed with bottles and cans) caught up with Ryan and Spencer and backed them into a corner between a house and the wall separating the neighbourhood from the rest of the world. The ring leader stepped forward, grinning and tapping his glass bottle against his palm. “Are you two finished? Because it’s about time you learned that freaks like you aren’t welcome here.”

  
“Shit,” Spencer whispered, and only had time to put himself between Ryan and the guy before the bottle was being thrown at them and Spencer was hoping he didn’t get hit in the head with glass. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed, and feel free to visit me on tumblr @brallencer!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a bit longer than I intended, but I'm getting close to the end of the semester and so now I've got exams and work I meant to turn in but didn't. 
> 
> I'm going to keep writing this fic until it's done, though. Hopefully I'll be able to finish it by the end of December, because I don't have too much left to write.

**April 12, 2004; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

Getting hit with a glass bottle hurt. Spencer knew that, objectively, before he got hit with a glass bottle, but he had thoroughly underestimated how painful it would be to get hit across the arm with one. It broke against his skin, and as the stinging cuts registered in Spencer’s mind, he realised that it would have been smart to have worn his uniform jacket, even though it was warm and he would have been uncomfortable in it all day. At least then his arm wouldn’t be bleeding. Probably. 

 

They didn’t stop with one, though. They threw everything they had at Spencer and Ryan, and Spencer wasn’t sure which one of them got hit more. The guys were obviously aiming for Ryan, because she was a trans woman and they thought that was more offensive, for whatever reason. But Spencer was doing his best to keep her from being hit, even as Ryan swatter the bottles and cans (and then rocks, because of course every fucking neighbourhood in Summerlin had to use gravel and rocks for decoration) that were thrown at them. 

 

And when the guys got tired of throwing shit, they came in and they started throwing punches. Spencer’s bag was ripped off of him, and he was hit in the head with it, and that was just plain rude. Spencer tried to fight back, but he was small and unathletic, and there were three guys beating on him and three on Ryan. Neither of them thought to scream for help. Spencer didn’t think anyone would come, since apparently he and Ryan were so obviously gay and therefore not worth helping. 

 

Spencer was about to black out from the pain and from all the blood that was coming from his nose and his mouth and his arm, but then the boys dispersed. Someone put a final kick to Ryan’s stomach, and she spat up blood, but then it was over and it was just Spencer and Ryan, alone and beaten beside some random house in a neighbourhood maybe ten minutes from their school. 

 

Spencer fell back onto the ground, because he couldn’t keep himself upright. His head his the concrete with a thud, but he didn’t register it, because he was already starting to slip from consciousness. It was like the world was slowly fading away, turning into little blue and black dots and covering Spencer’s vision like a screen. 

 

He reached out and found Ryan’s hand, even as the sky was turning to black above him. She squeezed back, and that was the final thing Spencer felt. 

 

* * *

 

He woke up on a couch, and the first thing he thought was  _ everything hurts. Where’s Ryan? _ Spencer looked around, even though moving his eyes hurt, and found Ryan stretched out on the other couch in the room. Her eyes were still closed. Spencer coughed. “Ryan?”

 

No answer. Spencer tried again. “Ryan?”

 

Spencer rolled over onto his side, ignoring how his body was protesting. His arm was wrapped up in gauze, but there were little speckles of blood coming through. Spencer didn’t look down at the rest of his body to see how badly he was injured. Judging from the amount of pain he was in, he figured that the attackers had gotten him pretty good. He dropped down from the couch, wincing as he hit the floor. Spencer crawled over to the other couch, slowly. He wasn’t sure where they were. 

 

“Ryan, dude, come on,” Spencer said. He poked Ryan’s arm, and she stirred a little but didn’t open her eyes. Spencer frowned. “We’re in someone’s house. Wake up.”

 

“I’m in  _ pain _ ,” Ryan said, like somehow her pain would keep them from getting in trouble for being in some stranger’s house. Not that Spencer knew how they’d gotten into the house, since the last thing he remembered was passing out on the sidewalk after getting beaten up by a half of a dozen of guys. Spencer sighed, and Ryan sat up, slowly. She winced and gently pressed two fingers to her stomach. “I don’t think they broke anything, thankfully. How’s your arm?”

 

“Well, if we still had a band, I probably wouldn’t be able to drum for a bit, but I think it’s okay,” Spencer said. The two of them were both grossly underestimating the severity of their injuries, but they weren’t medical students so of course they had no idea how hurt they were. Spencer could move, and nothing was too painful when he moved, so he just assumed he was fine. Or, as fine as one could be after losing a fight to six guys twice his size. Spencer sighed. “This is bad.”

 

“No shit,” Ryan said. “And while we’re at it, we still have a band. You and I are still a band, even if we’re short a guitarist and a bassist. We’re the band; anyone else is just a member.”

 

“That’s pretty narcissistic of you,” Spencer said. 

 

Ryan rolled her eyes, and winced. “It’s not like I’d be doing a band without you, Spence. You’re my best friend, and if we ever get on stage, I want to get to turn around and see you, not some other drummer.”

 

“That’s… oddly sentimental,” Spencer said. He smiled, though, because he knew that Ryan meant it, and Spencer meant whatever drummer equivalent there was to Ryan’s metaphor. “But thanks. And I wouldn’t want to be in a band without you, either.”

 

“Sweet,” Ryan said. “We should probably figure out where we are, and get a phone to call your mom or something.”

 

The door to the living room slid open, and the two of them looked up to see a man standing there. He looked like any other suburban dad, except there were tattoos snaking up and down his arms, and his knuckles looked bruised. Spencer wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be feeling relief or fear. He sat back down, hunching closer to Ryan in case this guy turned out to be a dick like the others. The man in the doorway was smiling, though, and the kind of smile that came from people who weren’t total dicks. He nodded to Spencer and Ryan. “I see you two are conscious again. I’ve got some ice packs, if that’ll help? I’m not a doctor or anything, so I’m making this up as I go.”

 

“Thanks,” Spencer said. He needed to call his mom. She was probably at the school, looking for him and Ryan and wondering where the hell they’d gone. 

 

Ryan narrowed her eyes. “Why’re you doing this?”

 

The man chuckled. “I know I don’t look it, but I used to be a scrawny kid who got picked on, back in middle school. I never got beaten as bad as you two--no offense--but I had a few black eyes and no one to stop them. I saw those guys beating up on you two and I ran outside and scared them off. Apparently being six two and covered in tattoos can scare off even the angriest of dudes.”

 

Ryan nodded. “Okay. So, can we call our parents now? They’re probably looking for us.”

 

“Yeah, totally,” he said, nodding. “Do either of you two have a phone, or do you need to borrow one of mine?”

 

Neither of them had a phone. Ryan had one, she just never remembered to charge it and so it was always dead by the middle of the day. Spencer’s mom didn’t see why Spencer would need a phone when he didn’t have a car and could use Ryan’s (she didn’t seem to realise that Ryan’s phone was almost always dead and wouldn’t be helpful in any situation), so he didn’t have one either. Spencer knew his mom’s number, though, and so he asked the guy to let him borrow a phone. 

 

The man disappeared around the corner, and as soon as he was out of sight, Ryan leaned down and whispered, “this is weird to you too, right?”

 

“Yeah, but at least he hasn’t tried anything yet,” Spencer said. He didn’t say that he thought that this guy might just be a genuinely good person, just in case he jinxed it for himself and Ryan. “Besides, my mom’s probably waiting at the school for us, so she’s not that far away.”

 

Ryan nodded, but she still eyed the man suspiciously when he came back with a phone for Spencer to use. Spencer dialed his mom’s cell phone number, and she picked up after the third ring. She obviously didn’t recognise the number, because when she answered, she used her full name and she sounded very confused as to who was calling her. Spencer gave Ryan a thumbs up so she would know that Spencer’s mom had answered the phone, and then said, “hey, mom, something happened and we’re at some guy’s house. Can you com pick us up?”

 

“Are you and Ryan alright?” she sounded super worried. “And where exactly are you? What happened?”

 

“Um, some guys from school were chasing us and we got in a fight outside some guy’s house. He chased them off or something and then let me and Ryan inside and now we’re just… waiting for you.”

 

“Spencer,” she sighed through the phone. 

 

“Can you please just come get Ryan and me?” Spencer asked. The guy slid Spencer a slip of paper with an address on it, and Spencer assumed it was where he, Ryan, and the guy were. Spencer read the address out to his mom. “We’re here, and we’re inside. And we’re not in danger or anything. I think we’re super close to the school. Like, within walking distance.”

 

“I’ll be there,” she said. “Don’t move.”

 

“I won’t,” Spencer said. He said goodbye, promised to not do anything until his mom got there (not like he’d be doing much considering that he was badly bruised and beaten and Ryan was worse), and then hung up. He handed the phone back to the guy and thanked him. 

 

The guy nodded. “No problem. Do either of you want some water?”

 

“No thanks,” Ryan said. “Our mom’ll be here soon, so.”

 

The guy nodded again and left Spencer and Ryan alone in the living room. Ryan sat up and slid off of her couch and onto the floor beside Spencer. The two of them sat there until the doorbell rang and the guy who’d been letting them hang out in his house brought out their bags. Spencer had totally forgotten about those in all the chaos of the past hour or so. One of the straps of his bag was ripped and Ryan’s looked like it had been stepped on and crushed repeatedly. The guy handed them over with a sad smile. “I tried getting everything that fell out, so sorry if anything’s missing.”

 

“Don’t worry, it’s fine,” Ryan said, snatching her bag as the guy headed to the front door to let Spencer’s mom into the house. Spencer heard them talking, his mom’s voice high and strained, and the guy’s voice calming he. She came around the corner and her eyes widened as she took in Spencer and Ryan, sitting on the floor with their school bags pulled up to their chests. 

 

“Hi mom,” Spencer said. 

 

“Oh my God,” she said, softly. “What happened to you two?”

 

“I told you, we got into a fight,” Spencer said. The guy was standing behind Spencer’s mom, and he made a face at Spencer’s blatant lie, but he didn’t correct Spencer. Spencer was grateful for that. He could tell his mom what happened later, when there wasn’t an audience and Ryan was no longer looking at the man like she expected him to start throwing punches too. 

 

He got up off the floor and thanked the guy for letting him and Ryan stay there while they waited for Spencer’s mom to show up. There was an unspoken thanks in there as well, one for saving him and Ryan from getting even more hurt, and scaring their attackers away from them. Ryan followed him, and she thanked the guy too, even though she was still eyeing him suspiciously. They got in the back seat of Spencer’s mom’s car, and rode back to Spencer’s house in silence. His mom didn’t even put the radio on. 

 

Spencer’s mom parked the car in the driveway and turned the engine off, and then turned around to face her son and surrogate daughter. “Alright, I know you two too well, and I know that neither of you are fighters. So, what really happened? None of this has to leave this car, but I need to know who did that to the two of you, because you’re both my babies and I don’t want to see you getting hurt.”

 

“I’m a girl, Ginger,” Ryan said. Ryan rarely called Spencer’s mom by her first name, even though she and Spencer’s dad had told Spencer and Ryan that they could. Ryan wasn’t coming out because she was ready, she was coming out because she was scared, and felt cornered, and was being impulsive again. Ryan sat up in her seat. “Spencer’s not the only one in this car who’s transgender. I am too, and I’ve known for a while but I’ve just kept it a secret, and then someone found out and they told the whole school, and now Spencer and I both have targets on our back.”

 

“You two weren’t in a fight then,” she said. “Those boys, they were attacking you for your gender?”

 

“Yeah,” Ryan said. “Me more than Spencer. But I’m pretty sure they’d come after him too, if they knew. It’s also why we’re short two band members now. They found out that Spence and I are trans when the rest of the school did, and told us they didn’t want to be in a band with people like us.”

 

“Well, that’s rude,” Spencer’s mom said. She sighed. “I know it’s not what you two want to hear, necessarily, but those other boys weren’t good enough for the two of you. You two are talented, really, and they were only in it for the fun parts. I think you two could become a big, famous band in a few years, you’ve just got to find the right members.”

 

“Thanks, mom,” Spencer said. He wasn’t sure where exactly he and Ryan were supposed to find their missing band members. It wasn’t like Las Vegas was crawling with teenaged musicians looking for a band to play in. Spencer and Ryan were lucky enough to have found each other. They might not ever find anyone willing to be in a band with a pair of transgender people, but at least they’d have each other. 

 

* * *

 

**August 5, 2004; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

Brendon and Spencer sat close to each other while they waited for Brendon’s clothes to get washed, and then the white trash couple finally left after Brendon had moved his clothes to the dryer and he had settled back down beside Spencer again. Spencer told Brendon what had happened to him and Ryan that one time once they were alone in the laundromat, and Brendon listened and hugged Spencer close when Spencer was done telling his story. Brendon kissed the top of Spencer’s head, and it felt more intimate than anything else Spencer had done before. “I’m sorry. I hope those guys get hit by a car. Collectively.”

 

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Spencer said. “It would have to be a big car.”

 

“A bus, then,” Brendon said. “I don’t really care what they get hit by, just that they get hit. I’m so sorry that happened to you and Ryan.”

 

“We survived,” Spencer said. He glanced down at his arm, where there were bright white scars from where he’d been hit by broken glass. “Not everyone does.”

 

“Yeah,” Brendon said, and it sounded like he knew someone who hadn’t survived. He was pretty sure that Brendon and Dallon had met at those church meetings, despite Brendon mentioning that he’d run into Dallon at a grocery store beforehand, and Dallon had asked him where to find something. That didn’t count as meeting someone. It was just a chance encounter that didn’t have to mean something. Brendon had to have gone to those meetings, at some point, and someone at those meetings had probably not made it out alive. Which sucked, really. 

 

“We’re still surviving,” Spencer said, into Brendon’s shoulder and into the silence of the laundromat. “And when we get to Chicago, we’re gonna make a band and we’re going to show the world that we’re still surviving.”

 

“What if the band thing never works?” Brendon asked. 

 

“It will,” Spencer said, because he’d never thought about other options. He and Ryan had been in a band together since the summer between Spencer’s sixth and seventh grade. It had been Ryan’s idea, because Ryan was the creative one between the two of them, but Spencer had promised to be with her in the band, since she didn’t know anyone other than Spencer at the time who had any musical skill. Spencer had been in the percussion section of his middle school concert band, and he figured that it wouldn’t be too hard to move from mallets and timpanis to a drum kit. They’d been playing cover songs ever since, with the occasional original song that Ryan was willing to share with people who weren’t her internet followers or Spencer. Spencer kissed Brendon’s shoulder. “It has to.”

 

“If you say it will, then I believe you,” Brendon said. He pulled back from Spencer, and his eyes were shining in the lights. In that moment, he was the most beautiful thing Spencer had ever seen, and Spencer knew that if he let their thing continue on, he’d fall in love with Brendon. That was a slightly terrifying thing to realise, especially when Spencer was sitting on a washing machine in Nebraska in the middle of the night. Especially when the boy he was potentially falling in love with had only known him for a few days, and they were about to become housemates and band mates. 

 

It was late enough into the night that it could be considered morning by the time that Brendon’s clothes were clean again and they could leave to go back to the motel. Dallon and Ryan were still asleep, thankfully, and when Spencer checked his phone, he didn’t have any missed messages from Ryan asking where he’d gone off to in the middle of the night. That was good. Spencer didn’t want her worrying about him, especially when all Spencer was doing was messing around with Brendon. 

 

Spencer changed back into his pajamas and fell into his bed, ready to go back to sleep. Brendon had kept the lights off so they wouldn’t wake their friends, and Spencer could hear him shuffling around and trying to get changed in the dark without falling or hitting anything. Spencer rolled onto his back and propped himself up on his elbows so that he could try and make Brendon out in the dark. Brendon was struggling to get out of his pants. Spencer bit back a laugh. He whispered, “do you need some help?”

 

“No,” Brendon whispered back, angrily. “I’ve got it under control.”

 

“If you say so,” Spencer whispered, and dropped back down onto the mattress. Ryan made a noise in her sleep that could have been a real sentence, but it just sounded like nonsense. Spencer patted her gently on the head. “Night, Brendon.”

 

“Goodnight, Spencer,” Brendon said. A few moments later, Spencer heard him climbing into his and Dallon’s bed. The mattress squeaked under Brendon’s movements, and Spencer wondered how Brendon had managed to get away with anything growing up. It was like he didn’t know how to be quiet and not wake people up. 

 

Spencer closed his eyes, and he was asleep almost instantly. When he woke back up, the sun was high in the sky and Ryan and Dallon were sitting on the floor between the two beds, eating McDonald’s breakfasts. Ryan had an iced coffee. She looked up at Spencer, and grinned around her straw when she saw that he was awake. “Hey, you missed breakfast. Brendon’s still asleep, but we need to leave eventually or we’re gonna get into Iowa City super late.”

 

“We’re stopping in Iowa City?” Spencer asked. 

 

Dallon nodded. “Yeah, I considered driving straight through to Chicago, but that would have been about eleven or twelve hours of driving and I really didn’t want to have to do that. So, one more night on the road, and then we get to meet Ryan’s boyfriend.”

 

“Jon’s excited about meeting you three, by the way,” Ryan said. “He keeps asking about what you guys are like.”

 

“You didn’t tell him anything too embarrassing, right?” Spencer asked, even though he was pretty sure that Jon already knew all of Spencer’s embarrassing moments. Ryan wiggled her eyebrows, in a “wouldn’t you like to know” kind of way, and that confirmed it for Spencer. She’d told Jon. She probably hadn’t told Jon everything, because she wasn’t that cruel, but Spencer had no chance of making Jon think that he was the intimidating best guy friend who would fuck him up if he ever hurt Ryan. Spencer would do that, because he was Ryan’s best friend and he didn’t want anyone hurting her, but Jon would know that there was more to Spencer than his resting bitch face and his protective nature towards Ryan. 

 

He’d know about all the dumb things Spencer and Ryan got up to as kids. He probably knew more than Spencer’s mom, and she knew a lot for a mother. 

 

“What’d you tell him about Brendon and I?” Dallon asked, and then turned and motioned for Spencer to join them on the floor. Brendon was still asleep in his and Dallon’s bed. Spencer slid out of bed and didn’t look over at Ryan because he was pretty sure she’d know what he and Brendon had gotten up to earlier that morning. Spencer settled in beside Ryan as she told Dallon what she’d told Jon, which wasn’t much. Nothing she said about Dallon and Brendon surprised Spencer. She didn’t mention that they acted like they were either dating or had dated at one point, even though that had been one of the first things Spencer had noticed about the two of them. 

 

Spencer and Brendon were a thing now, somewhat, and that was what really mattered. If Dallon didn’t want to get involved, that was on him, and he was the one who’d be missing out. 

 

“Did you want breakfast?” Dallon asked Spencer. Spencer shrugged. He wasn’t awake enough to know if he was hungry yet. He ended up stealing some of Ryan’s hashbrowns, which were greasy and disappointing and made Spencer regret not having something to drink. His mouth tasted like morning breath and subpar hashbrowns. 

 

About an hour later, Brendon finally woke up, and the four of them packed up and checked out of the motel. Spencer requested that they stop by a Starbucks so that he could buy an iced coffee and hopefully stop feeling like death for a little bit. Brendon perked up at the idea of coffee, and Spencer remembered that he’d been raised Mormon and had probably never had caffeine in his life. Dallon looked wary, but Brendon’s big, brown puppy dog eyes won in the end, and they paused at a Starbucks to get Brendon and Spencer drinks. 

 

Brendon’s drink, whatever it was, came with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle, and Dallon looked at it like it was going to cause the apocalypse or something. There was probably a reason Brendon had never had coffee or caffeine, besides the fact that he was a Mormon. Or ex-Mormon. Spencer had never had the chance to ask. 

 

They’d been on the road for maybe thirty minutes before Brendon started vibrating. He was usually a whirl of constant movement, but this was something else entirely. It was like he’d gone into overdrive, and there was nothing that could stop him. Ryan had pulled her legs up so that she was sitting cross-legged in the backseat beside Spencer while she was on her phone, and she kept glaring at Brendon. Spencer just wanted him to stop making the seat vibrate, because Spencer could feel the seat moving against his knees. He pulled his legs up too, but then his knee was hitting Ryan’s, and there wasn’t a lot of room in the back seat to be comfortable while Brendon was vibrating and singing along to Dallon’s CDs.

 

Dallon was tapping his finger against the steering wheel, and Spencer couldn’t tell if he was put off by Brendon’s hyperness or if he’d noticed that Ryan was getting pissed and was waiting to see what she did. Spencer dropped his sunglasses down over his eyes and leaned back, pretending to be asleep. The scenery outside of the car was boring. Nebraska was boring. Last night at two in the morning was a distant memory, and it felt like it had taken place in an alternate universe, where Nebraska was interesting and there were no consequences for anyone’s actions. 

 

Spencer had a crush on the vibrating, hyper guy in front of him. Spencer had had crushes on people before, obviously, but he’d never had a crush on someone who would make out with him any chance they got. He’d never had a crush on someone who told him their secrets, or listened to his and didn’t laugh him off. It was weird. Spencer wasn’t used to being interested in someone with this level of intensity. 

 

Spencer closed his eyes and listened to Brendon singing along to  _ Hip to be Square _ . Spencer smiled to himself. That song was pretty relatable for Brendon, who didn’t have much of a social life or a friend circle, so far as Spencer knew. 

 

“Brendon, I swear to God, I will throw something at you if you don’t stop moving,” Ryan said. Spencer opened one eye, and sure enough, she was poised with a pencil in her hand, ready to toss it towards the front seat if Brendon didn’t settle down.

 

“Sorry,” Brendon said. Spencer could see that his leg was still bouncing, but at least his whole body wasn’t moving anymore. 

 

“This is probably why your parents never let you eat anything with sugar in it,” Dallon commented. Brendon turned and grinned at Dallon, and Ryan rolled her eyes from the backseat, but the situation had still been diffused. Dallon glanced over at Brendon, raising a single eyebrow. “And this is why I’m never going to let you have coffee again, because you get way too hyperactive and it’s even freaking me out.”

 

“What if I got coffee but without all the sugary, flavoured stuff?”

 

“That wouldn’t change anything,” Dallon said. “That would probably make it worse, since there’d be less in there to dilute out the caffeine.”

 

“Don’t people develop a tolerance to caffeine over time?” Brendon asked. Dallon glanced to the back seats to look for support from Ryan or Spencer. Ryan was back to trying to text with Jon. Spencer pretended he was asleep, even though he was paying attention to the entire conversation and his eyes were still open. Brendon poked Dallon. “So, the logical thing to to is let me have more coffee, that way I’ll be used to it by the time we get to Chicago and then I won’t be bouncing around the apartment all the time and annoying everyone there.”

 

“Yes, because shooting you up with caffeine while we’re all in an enclosed area is a good decision,” Dallon said, drily. He shook his head. “You’re not getting any coffee, Bren, and don’t try that look on me because it won’t work this time. I’ve seen you on caffeine now, you can’t fool me with promises that it won’t be that bad and you won’t be bouncing off walls.”

 

“Okay, but consider this,” Brendon said, pointing a finger at Dallon. Dallon swatted it away. “Once we’re in Chicago, we’ll all have jobs and you won’t be able to watch me and make sure I don’t have any coffee. Once we’re in Chicago, you can’t stop me from doing anything.”

 

“I’ll help you keep him away from the coffee,” Ryan said. She didn’t look up from her phone. Brendon turned around and looked at her like she’d just offended him, his entire family, and probably his pets if he had any. Ryan dropped her phone into her lap, crossed her arms over her chest, and stared back at Brendon. “You heard me. You're not meant to touch coffee or sugar, ever. Like, full offense but you're way too wired to be healthy.”

 

“I've got ADHD,” Brendon said, pouting. 

 

“Okay,” Ryan said slowly. “So why'd you think coffee would help with that?”

 

“I… I don't know,” Brendon said, and it sounded like he was giving up and letting Ryan win. It was probably for the best. When Ryan wanted to win an argument, even a small one, she usually did. Spencer was stubborn not because of his own family, but because he had to be to get along with Ryan. She didn't always make it easy, but she was still a good person and a good friend. 

 

* * *

 

**August 5, 2004; Grand Island, Nebraska.**

 

Brendon had returned to his usual level of hyper by the time they pulled off for lunch. They found a place that made gyros in the middle of a mall, and ate lunch there. Spencer wondered if Dallon and Brendon had decided to go there because they genuinely liked gyros, or because it reminded them of Breezy. Spencer still didn't know where Breezy was now. He assumed she was in California, becoming an actress and making it big. 

 

“So, have either of you have gyros before, or are you gyro virgins?” Dallon asked as the four of them settled down at a table with their food. Brendon's face flushed red when Dallon said virgin, and Spencer made sure not to look at him. Brendon was (mostly) a virgin. 

 

Ryan shook her head. “I've never had one before, but since you said they're good, I'm willing to try.”

 

“Yeah, a good friend of mine introduced me to Mediterranean food a few years ago,” Dallon said. “She had good taste.”

 

He meant Breezy. Spencer glanced over at Brendon, but for once, Brendon's face was unreadable. Spencer say back in his chair and turned his face towards Dallon. “Who was your friend?”

 

“Her name was Breezy,” Dallon said. His expression was just as closed as Brendon's was, and that only made Spencer more curious as to what happened with Breezy. Maybe she'd left for California without Dallon and Brendon, and they'd been left behind feeling bitter and abandoned. “You wouldn't know her.”

 

Right. So obviously Dallon had no idea that Brendon had been retelling his and Dallon's life story behind Dallon's back. Brendon refused to make eye contact with Spencer, even after the subject changed and Dallon stopped looking so closed off. Spencer spent the rest of their lunch stop trying to get Brendon's attention, and failing, and by the end of the meal he was frustrated and even more curious as to how Breezy played into all of this. 

 

They got back into the minivan after lunch and drove for about an hour and a half before they got to Lincoln, Nebraska. Dallon stopped at a Phillips 66 gas station outside of the city to fill up on gas, and while he was outside getting gas, Brendon headed to the little convenience store by the gas station. For a moment, Spencer considered following him in there and asking about Breezy and why she was so relevant to everything (because she was, and Spencer knew it). He didn’t, though, because Ryan was right there and Ryan had known Brendon and Dallon before Spencer did, so maybe she’d already gotten their history. After all, she hadn’t been too surprised when Dallon name-dropped Breezy at lunch. 

 

Spencer bumped his knee against Ryan’s. “So, do you know anything about Breezy? Dallon’s friend?”

 

“Depends on what you already know,” Ryan said. Spencer must have had a weird look on his face, because she then said, “I know you and Brendon have been talking, and obviously you asked how he and Dallon met, because you’re you. And Brendon and Dallon only make sense when Breezy’s included, so you knew about Breezy when you asked Dallon. I just want to know how far Brendon got.”

 

* * *

 

**April 16, 2003; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

There was a new person in the group meeting that day. Dallon always noticed when someone new was there, because they still had hope in their eyes. They still thought that this place wouldn’t destroy them, or bring them down. They always came in thinking that they could beat the system. They always left realising that they never would.

 

Dallon sat down next to Breezy, and motioned towards the new person. “He’s new.”

 

“Is he even old enough to be here?” She asked, arching an eyebrow. “He looks like he’s twelve.”

 

“He looks seventeen, stop being so condescending,” Dallon said. The new person did look seventeen, and he also looked familiar. Dallon was pretty sure he’d seen the guy somewhere before. It hadn’t been church, because the same people came to church every Sunday and Dallon would have remembered a new face if he ever saw one. There weren’t many other places Dallon had been to recently, so he had to have seen the guy in one of those. 

 

Dallon frowned. “I swear I’ve seen him somewhere before.”

 

“I think he goes to the same school that my sister’s at,” Breezy commented. “I think I’ve seen him at the chorus concerts. My sister’s in chorus, by the way. You should come to the concert at the end of the month so I can have an excuse not to sit with my parents.”

 

“I’ll try,” Dallon said. He’d never even thought about going to a high school chorus concert, because that sounded like the most boring thing he could do with his life, other than continue to attend these meetings even though he’d still be gay the next day. He’d go for Breezy’s sake, though, and so that he’d have an excuse to get out of the house and away from his parents. They were still regarding him like some kind of unwanted guest. 

 

“Thanks,” Breezy said, and then they two of them had to shut up because Martin was starting the meeting again. Martin and Margaret had given up on Dallon for the moment, or maybe it was because they knew that a new person was coming and they didn’t want to scare him off before he could even start confessing to his sins. Either way, they were no longer coming for Dallon and trying to get him to break down and cry in front of everyone, and had reverted back to asking for volunteers. 

 

The new guy raised his hand. He didn’t look nervous. Dallon glanced over at Breezy, and she was shaking her head at him. 

 

“Hi, I’m Brendon, and I’m here because my parents found out that I smoked weed once with some people from school,” Brendon said. Both Martin and Margaret looked appalled, but Breezy was holding back laughter. Dallon had never smoked weed. He’d been asked a few times in high school and once in college, but he’d always said he wasn’t interested. He didn’t judge people who did smoke, or drink or whatever, because that was their life and their choices, and they didn’t affect Dallon. 

 

Brendon must have noticed that most of the room was looking at him like he didn’t belong there, so he shifted in his seat and said, “and also that I was skipping class. To smoke weed. But it was only once, and I did it because I wanted to be friends with them and I thought they’d think I was cool, and I already apologised to my parents and told them it wouldn’t happen again, but they sent me here anyway because they said I was old enough to know better. And, I am. But I was dumb and I’m sorry.”

 

“For smoking weed, once?” Breezy muttered under her breath. “His parents must be something else.”

 

“You don’t say,” Dallon whispered back. Martin was saying something about the ten commandments and making sure Brendon honoured his mother and father if he ever wanted to get into heaven. “He’s probably got some serious issues going on, if his parents freaked out over that.”

 

Dallon nodded. Margaret looked over at Breezy and Dallon, and she raised a disappointed maternal eyebrow at the two of them. She placed a hand on Martin’s elbow to let him know he needed to pause for a moment, and then said to Breezy and Dallon, “Mr. Weekes, Mr. Douglas, is there something you two would like to share with the rest of the rest of the group?”

 

Dallon froze. Breezy didn’t. She sat up straight in her chair and said, “we were just commenting on how unfortunate it is that parents these days can’t raise their children properly anymore. Dallon and I didn’t ever experiment with drugs growing up, because our parents were responsible and made sure to let us know the dangers of drugs. Right, Dallon?”

 

Dallon nodded, deciding it was best to go along with what Breezy said. She seemed to have more experience getting out of trouble than Dallon did. And he hadn’t experimented with drugs (or anything else, really) during high school. Dallon got the impression that Breezy had, and that she didn’t particularly care if people did drugs in high school. She was just saying that stuff to subtly insult Brendon’s parents, who weren’t even in the room, and say that they were bad parents. 

 

Brendon didn’t seem to understand that, though, because his head was bowed and he looked genuinely ashamed. Maybe he was a good kid, who’d just fallen for some peer pressure. Maybe his parents weren’t as bad as Breezy and Dallon assumed, but probably not. Dallon would make sure to go over to Brendon at the end of the meeting and explain that Breezy wasn’t coming after him, she was coming after his parents for being shitty. 

 

When the meeting ended, Dallon told Breezy to follow him, and the two of them followed Brendon out of the door, catching up to him easily because he was short and Dallon and Breezy both had long legs. Dallon called out, “hey, wait up a moment.”

 

Brendon whirled around, and there was something in his eyes that hadn’t been there for the entirety of that meeting. There was blatant defiance, and anger. His fists were loose at his sides, but Dallon could see the tension in his fingers. He had nice hands. “What, are you going to insult my parents again? Or are you going to come after me this time? Not everyone in that room thinks they did the right thing, you know. Some of us actually feel bad for disappointing our parents.”

 

“Oh, wow,” Breezy said. “I did not expect that.”

 

“We weren't insulting your parents, or you,” Dallon said. He hadn't expected Brendon to be angry either, but at this point he was just improvising and hoping for the best. “We lied, when Margaret asked us what we were talking about, because Breezy and I both agreed that you smoking weed was probably the least ‘sinful’ thing anyone in that room had done, ever.”

 

“I lied to my parents, too, in case you two were too busy gossiping to pay attention,” Brendon snapped. 

 

Dallon rolled his eyes. This guy was way too high strung. Maybe he needed the weed, because Dallon had heard (and seen first hand) that weed made people relax. He glanced over at Breezy, but she didn’t look as annoyed as Dallon, and so Dallon pushed his annoyance at Brendon aside and addressed him directly. “I don’t know how much you know about this thing, or what your parents told you, but lying and skipping class to go smoke weed isn’t that bad. You may think it is, but there are people in there who are really disgusting.”

 

“There was a pedophile once, but he left,” Breezy said. “Hopefully he’s in jail, along with the arsonist who tried to set her sixth grade algebra teacher’s house on fire.”

 

Brendon’s eyes widened. “I’m not a kid, though, and I’ve never taught algebra in my life. So, it’s not like it really matters, does it? I mean, you two aren’t, like, secret felons or anything, are you?”

 

“Nah, I’m just transgender and Dallon’s gay,” Breezy said, like she was testing Brendon to see how he’d react to it. His reaction was subtle, but it reminded Dallon of the times at college when someone down the hall would start talking about how the “sinful queers” were invading or existing or whatever their issue of the week was. It was fear of being recognised and getting called out. Dallon might have been reading into it, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Brendon was a closeted gay and the weed and the lying were just covers so that his parents wouldn’t realise what he was actually doing. 

 

It was what Dallon would have done, had he known how his parents would react to him being open about his sexuality. 

 

Brendon swallowed, and seemed to deflate a little. “So, that’s seen as wrong here? Being gay?”

 

“It’s seen as wrong in most places, dude,” Breezy said. “But that doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. There’s nothing wrong with me or Dallon, at least not in regards of who we kiss or sleep with. So long as everyone involved is able to consent and does, there’s nothing wrong with the sex we do or do not have.”

 

“Oh, cool,” Brendon said, nodding. He didn’t seem as angry and upset now. Dallon was pretty sure he was gay, though, because he knew from past experience that being around people who were comfortable in their sexuality helped others be comfortable. It was nice knowing you weren’t talking to a group of homophobic assholes, and Brendon wasn’t. Brendon was also bouncing on his toes a little, and Dallon was reminded of the beginning of the meeting, when Brendon had looked a little too eager to be there. That was probably just his personality. He was probably just bouncy. He tilted his head towards Breezy. “I think I know you, by the way. Do you have any younger siblings?”

 

“I’ve got two,” she said. “One’s in high school, the other is off at college and being more successful than I am with her life.”

 

“Which high school, and is she in chorus?” Brendon asked. “Because I might know her.”

 

It turned out that Brendon was in chorus with Breezy’s teenage sister. Breezy’s sister was a freshman, and apparently her parent’s miracle baby that they hadn’t expected to have. Brendon didn’t know Breezy’s sister personally, since her sister was in the soprano section and Brendon was a tenor. As they started to more again, so they wouldn’t still be in a church hallway when Martin and Margaret got their stuff together and left the room, Brendon shoved his hands into the pockets of his purple hoodie and said, “and I’m probably not going to know her too well, since I’m graduating this year.”

 

“You’re a senior?” Breezy asked, disbelieving. 

 

Brendon nodded. “Yeah, my birthday was three days ago. My parents didn’t let me have a party, since I’m grounded because of the whole weed thing. I don’t really have friends at school, which sucks, but that was probably why I was willing to skip class. I’m a good person, usually. I’m just really lonely sometimes.”

 

“I get that,” Dallon said. Brendon gave him a questioning look, and Dallon remembered that his friendship with Breezy was pretty obvious, at least amongst the meeting members. “My family’s Mormon, and I am too, kind of, so a lot of kids at school thought I was weird. And then at college, I was probably the only gay college guy there, so I could only be so honest with my friends.”

 

“I’m Mormon too!” Brendon said, jumping a little. 

 

“Someone’s excited,” Breezy said. She was smiling a little, and Dallon could tell that she thought Brendon was endearing. She looked over at Dallon. “You okay with adding another person to our lunch dates?”

 

“Dates?” Brendon asked, but he was ignored. Dallon nodded, and Breezy grinned and turned back to Brendon. “So, me and Dallon get lunch at this Mediterranean place downtown every Friday. I know you said that you’re grounded, but if you can convince your parents to let you go, we’d be down for it. It’d be nice to have someone other than Dallon to talk to about my problems with.”

 

“So, is this some weird way of asking to be my friend, because I’m not used to this,” Brendon said. He was smiling awkwardly, and Dallon could tell that he was trying to be funny to cover up his nerves. Dallon nodded, and confirmed that yes, he and Breezy wanted to hang out with Brendon and be his friend. Brendon grinned, and then proceeded to jump at both of them and wrap them in a hug. It was unexpected, but it was still good, and so Dallon hugged Brendon and Breezy back, and then they broke. Brendon grinned up at the two of them. “Sweet. Now I’ve just gotta convince my parents that you two are the good kind of sinners, and never mention that you’re gay.”

 

“That shouldn’t be too hard,” Breezy said. “My parents didn’t know until I told them, and that was the biggest mistake I ever made.”

 

It sounded like a piece of advice. Dallon hoped that Brendon would take it. 

 

* * *

 

**August 5, 2004; Lincoln, Nebraska.**

 

Ryan shut up as soon as Brendon started opening the door. Spencer wanted to know why Ryan had to tell Brendon’s backstory without Brendon knowing it was being told. Maybe Ryan felt like she was going behind Brendon’s back. 

 

“You two look like you just saw a ghost or something,” Brendon said. He popped a straw into his Capri Sun and slurped from it. “Did I miss something?”

 

“Nope,” Ryan said. She didn’t offer any more information. Spencer, in that moment, loved her in a truly platonic way, because if he’d tried that, it wouldn’t have worked. Ryan didn’t even need excuses. She just said what she wanted to say and somehow got away with it. Spencer was weirdly proud of her. 

 

Brendon shrugged and turned back around. A few moments later, Spencer’s phone buzzed against his leg. It wasn’t his mom asking where he was, because he’d actually remembered to call her this time. It was Brendon. Spencer kept his face blank because he didn’t want Ryan to get curious, and opened the text. There was no reason for Brendon to text him when he was literally right in front of Spencer. 

 

_ u 2 werent talking abt me wer u? _

 

Spencer flicked his hair so it fell in front of his face and then rolled his eyes. He texted back,  _ no it was just a friendship thing u and i are still unknown _

 

Brendon responded:  _ ok cool _

_ r we doing things 2nite _

 

_ only if u want to ;) _ Spencer sent it, and then judged himself for sending a winky face. It wasn’t like Ryan could do it for him, though he knew that she would if she knew that Spencer was sending winky face emoticons to the guy in the front seat of the car that he was secretly fooling around with. Brendon didn't say anything or respond to the text, but Spencer could see a smile on his face through the passenger side mirror. 

 

Dallon got back in, and they headed back onto the highway. It was still as boring as it had been earlier in the day. Nebraska was really flat, and it was made up of fields and the occasional suburban neighbourhood. Iowa turned out to be just as boring. Brendon and Dallon singing in the front seat wasn’t enough to keep Spencer entertained, because he was too busy thinking about the other things he could be doing: making out with Brendon or getting the rest of his history with Dallon and Breezy. Spencer felt like Ryan had just gotten to the interesting part when Brendon came back. 

 

Spencer wanted to get to the interesting part. He wanted to know what was going on, because apparently he was the only one in the car who was still clueless. 

 

He couldn’t ask, though, because apparently whatever happened with Dallon and Brendon wasn’t something that could just be talked about in the minivan. Apparently, everyone had to be told privately, and in little sections. Like Dallon and Brendon’s lives were some kind of mystery novel. Spencer rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses. He hated mystery novels, if they were all set up like this. 

 

* * *

 

**August 5, 2004; Williamsburg, Iowa.**

 

They were maybe ten feet from the exit for Williamsburg when the car behind them slammed into the back of the minivan. Dallon swore, really swore, and slammed on the breaks. He veered them off onto the exit instead of into the next lane of traffic, and then put on the hazard lights. Spencer had fallen asleep momentarily, but he was awake after that. He sat up in his seat, heart racing in his chest. “What the fuck was that?”

 

“Someone who can’t drive for shit,” Ryan spat, but Spencer could tell she was shaken, too. Spencer turned around to see what had happened, specifically. The luggage was everywhere, but Ryan’s guitar case looked like it hadn’t suffered any damage. The car that had hit them was larger than the minivan, and it looked pretty new, too. It was some kind of grey pick up truck. Spencer turned around. “Well, nothing looks too broken.”

 

“Dal,” Brendon said, softly. He tugged on the sleeve of Dallon’s shirt. “They’re getting out.”

 

“Aw, shit,” Dallon muttered under his breath. He turned the car off, but didn’t move from the front seat. Spencer could see him watching the two men from the truck approach the car. Spencer and Ryan made eye contact. If this was what Brendon and Dallon were fearing it was--two homophobic dicks in camo gear looking for a fight--then Spencer wasn’t going to let them win. He and Ryan had been victims once. That was it. He reached out and grabbed Ryan’s hand, and she squeezed back. 

 

One of the guys came around to the driver’s side of the minivan. He tapped on Dallon’s window, and Dallon rolled it down. His shoulders were tense, but he smiled at the guy. “I see you hit my car.”

 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” the guy said. He didn’t look very friendly. He looked past Dallon, into the rest of the minivan where three teenagers were sitting. Spencer realised that none of them, except maybe Dallon, looked very heterosexual. Brendon was in tight jeans and a lavender hoodie, Ryan was in that awkward stage of sometimes passing as a cis girl and sometimes not, and Spencer looked either like a lesbian or a twelve year old boy. He hadn’t checked a mirror recently, so he wasn’t sure. 

 

The guy nodded. “We’ll call our insurance, get it all checked out.”

 

“You don’t need to do that,” Dallon said, too quickly. So he was nervous. Well, at least he was on the same page as everyone else. Dallon swallowed. “I mean, we’re kind of in a hurry. College, and all that. I’m helping them move in.”

 

“He’s Spencer’s older brother,” Brendon said, and pointed at Spencer. Spencer glared at Brendon, a  _ wow, thanks for bringing me into this mess _ kind of glare. Spencer had brought himself into this mess, really, when he said he wanted to follow Ryan halfway across the country and start living in Chicago. Spencer still didn’t want to end up lying to a pair of tall rednecks. 

 

He nodded anyway. “Yeah, we’re related.”

 

“You don’t look old enough to be in high school,” the guy said. He was halfway between confused and laughing at Spencer. Spencer frowned. The guy winked, which did not improve the situation and only made Ryan and Brendon bristle in needless defense. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, you’ve just got a baby face.”

 

“Thanks,” Spencer said slowly. “But, um, can we go? We’re not gonna sue you or anything, we just need to move on.”

 

“We’re not going to hurt you guys, no need to be so cagey,” the other said. “We’ve already called our insurance, they said they’re willing to talk to your insurance, they just need a number to call.”

 

“Um,” Dallon said, very eloquently. The two guys eventually convinced him to exchange insurance information, and then explained that they lived in a small town a few miles back but one of their friends ran an auto shop just off the exit and their friend would be willing to repair any damage, since it had been an accident and the guys’ fault, not Dallon’s. Dallon kept looking at the two guys like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, and Spencer didn’t blame him. 

 

But nothing weird happened. There was a Day’s Inn across the road from the auto shop, and since the man running the auto shop said it would take them until the next morning, if not longer, to get the dents fixed, they headed over there to check in and spend the night in Williamsburg, Iowa. It was not as planned. The four of them were stuck in a hotel room that smelled funny, and they had no car or way out of Williamsburg. 

 

“Well, I’m going to go see if there’s anywhere nearby we can explore while we’re still here,” Brendon said. Looking right at Spencer like he was waiting for Spencer to agree to go with him. Spencer didn’t really want to get up and move, though, especially not when it was starting to get dark outside. Spencer glanced over at Ryan, who had settled back against the pillows and looked like she was barricading herself into the bed. Spencer said, “Ryan, do you want to go?”

 

“I’m good, thanks,” Ryan said. Spencer turned back to Brendon. “I think I’m going to stay back, too.”

 

“Oh, okay,” Brendon said, deflating a little. Spencer didn't want Brendon to think that he was staying in the motel because he didn’t want to be around Brendon. He shoved his hands under his thighs. “Not that I don’t want to, I just… I’m tired. I didn’t sleep well and I kind of just want to pass out for a bit.”

 

Brendon nodded, but he still looked a little distraught. Spencer stopped himself from saying anything else, because he didn’t want Ryan to realise that Spencer had a crush on Brendon and wanted Brendon to like him. Ryan would tease him forever, and then she’d go and threaten Brendon with whatever she could. Spencer also didn’t want Dallon to notice anything, because Spencer was pretty sure that there was some kind of something between Brendon and Dallon, and he didn’t want to come between them or make Dallon think that Spencer was trying to steal Brendon from him. 

 

“Since it’s late, I’ll go with you,” Dallon suggested. Brendon perked back up, thankfully, and he and Dallon grabbed their wallets and cell phones and headed out. Dallon said that he'd try to be back before nine, so that they weren't all alone for too long. 

 

Once Dallon and Brendon were gone, Spencer turned to Ryan, who was still huddled in against the pillows. “You doing okay?”

 

“I guess,” Ryan said. “Wanna see if we can order pizza?”

 

“Do you think there's even a pizza place here?” Spencer said. “We're kind of in the middle of nowhere. They might not even know what pizza is.”

 

Ryan rolled her eyes. “We’re not  _ that  _ far out into the middle of nowhere, it just feels like it.”

 

She shifted so that her legs were tucked under her and she was leaning on her elbows, towards Spencer. She narrowed her eyes and smiled at him, like she knew all of his secrets. She probably did. “You didn’t want to stay back just to order pizza to a hotel room, did you? You’ve got a thing for Brendon, and you’re freaking out because you’re not used to actually liking people.”

 

“I’m not freaking out,” Spencer said, except that he was. It was internal, and he was doing his best not to show it around anyone, or think about it too much. He’d never been in a situation where he could be dating someone that he also had a crush on. It was a little terrifying to think about, really. He wasn’t going to start thinking about it, either, because it wasn’t the right time. “And I don’t have a thing for Brendon, not really.”

 

“But you’ve kissed him?” Ryan asked, raising an eyebrow and looking way too interested in Spencer’s love life. It was probably because her own love life was stable and so she didn’t have anything to be dramatic about and was just living vicariously through Spencer. 

 

Spencer sighed. “We fooled around on a field once. And we’ve made out a few times, but it’s nothing serious. He’s probably just fascinated by the whole trans thing.”

 

“Well, if that’s what he’s into you for, I’ll chop his dick off and shove it up his ass while he’s still bleeding from the initial injury,” Ryan said. Spencer raised an eyebrow at her. She deflated and leaned back into the pillows. “Okay, fine, if you don’t want to call it a big deal that you like a guy and he likes you back and you’ve kissed him, then we won’t. What do you want to talk about, then, if Brendon is off the table?”

  
“I want the rest of the whole Breezy thing,” Spencer said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit shorter, but there are some warnings. Dallon and Brendon make out/are implied to be romantically involved in some flash backs, where Brendon is 16 and Dallon is 20. There's nothing sexual/NSFW because I don't write that, but just fair warning. 
> 
> Also, I think there are only going to be three more chapters, so hang on for a little longer.

**April 18, 2003; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

_ srry but i cant make lunch 2day have fun w brendon _ . Dallon had been staring at the text for almost two minutes. He was still in the Brobecks van, sitting outside in the parking lot. Breezy wasn’t in there, and she wasn’t going to show up. She had some other thing to do, and usually Dallon wouldn’t be bothered because he could just get lunch on his own and pass the time by avoiding returning home, but today was different. Today, their duo was adding on another member, and that third member was already inside, sitting at a table. Dallon had spotted him when he pulled into the parking lot. 

 

Dallon wasn’t sure if he was ready to take Brendon on on his own. He’d been banking on Breezy being there, and the three of them bonding together, instead of separately. Dallon didn’t want and advantage over Breezy when she came back on Wednesday and Dallon and Brendon were already friends. Or worse, if Dallon and Brendon weren’t able to get along and then Dalon had to tell Breezy that it hadn’t worked out, and Brendon was annoying or something and Dallon couldn’t stand hanging out with him. 

 

Dallon responded to Breezy’s text ( _ ok have fun w whatever ur doing _ ) and got out of the car, locking it behind himself. He headed into the restaurant, to a different booth from the one he was used to. It wasn’t as different as he had expected it to be, even though he was meeting someone other than Breezy for lunch. Dallon thought to himself that this was probably what his mother was afraid would happen: that Dallon would end up meeting a guy and then hanging out alone with the guy. It had happened, unexpectedly, and a lot faster than Dallon anticipated. 

 

He sat down across from Brendon, who looked up at him with wide brown eyes. Dallon was still sure he’d seen Brendon somewhere before the meetings. “Have we ever run into each other? Before the meeting, I mean.”

 

“Maybe?” Brendon said. “I’m not good with faces.”

 

“Ah, well,” Dallon said, and then coughed nervously. Maybe this was a bit more awkward than he’d expected. He and Breezy had clicked almost immediately, but he and Brendon were still regarding each other with curiousity and a bit of distrust. They didn’t know each other, and they didn’t know if they wanted to know each other yet. Dallon mover his legs so that they wouldn’t brush against Brendon’s under the table. “If you ever remember, let me know. It’s been bothering me ever since I saw you on Wednesday. Not to sound creepy, or anything.”

 

“Dude, you’re only a few years older than me,” Brendon laughed. “It’s not that creepy.”

 

“You’re still in high school,” Dallon countered, even though he knew it was a weak counter. Brendon had said that he’d be done with high school in a few months, when graduation rolled around, so it wasn’t like he’d be in high school much longer. He was only a few years younger than Dallon, and he was eighteen, so that meant he was an adult in some terms. 

 

Brendon grinned. “Yeah, for like two more months. Then I’m free to go on with my life, and do whatever I want.”

 

“Hate to break it to you, but that’s not how adulthood really works,” Dallon said, thinking back to when he was in Provo and he and his bandmates were genuinely considering dropping out and living out of the Brobecks van. Looking back, that probably wouldn’t have worked unless they bought a trailer for the minivan. They had too much equipment to fit it in the trunk. The drum kit alone would have taken up all the room, and then where would they have slept? Maybe it was for the best that Dallon got kicked out of BYU, but probably not. Dallon had a feeling that the Brobecks would have made a pretty good band, if they'd had the time to become something more than four Mormon college guys with a dream. 

 

“How old are you?” Brendon asked. “Because you're talking to me like you're some dude in your thirties, but you don't look that old. You look like the UNLV guys who come through Smith’s and buy a bunch of beer for their parties.”

 

“I'll be twenty one in a few weeks,” Dallon said. “But the past few years of my life have been kind of weird. I got kicked out of college for being gay, fun fact.”

 

“That's not okay,” Brendon said. He frowned. “What college would do that?”

 

“Brigham Young, apparently,” Dallon said. Brendon's face fell. Dallon made jazz hands and grinned sarcastically. He'd been acting a lot more sarcastic recently. It was probably because of the whole gay thing, and how his parents weren't listening to him regardless of how polite and patient he was with them. Dallon was getting tired of being nice and beating around the bush with things. Unfortunately, Brendon was going to be on the receiving end of that for a little bit. “Surprise, I'm a Mormon. It runs in the family, and none of them were pleased to find out that I like kissing men.”

 

Brendon slumped down in his seat, and Dallon almost felt bad for telling him the truth. Brendon would have found out eventually, though, because it wasn’t like Dallon was hiding his past or was even able to. Someone would eventually let it slip that Dallon was the gay Mormon and a disappointment to his entire family. 

 

“So, sorry your parents thought that skipping class was bad enough to send you to a church group full of gays and sexually active people,” Dallon said. “If it makes you feel any better, Breezy and I both agreed that you probably shouldn’t be in the group. Everyone lies to their parents at some point, and we all do dumb things to try and impress our friends. One time I tried to backflip off the hood of my car to impress my bandmates. I ended up breaking my ankle and scratching both of my elbows and my chin. I’ve got scars and everything.”

 

“You can’t backflip?” Brendon asked. 

 

Dallon nodded. “Yeah. I lied to my friends and said I could because we were talking about what cool things we’d do on stage to impress the audience, and I said I could totally do a backflip while holding my bass.”

 

“Were you holding your bass then?” Brendon said. He looked interested, but also contemplative about the whole event. Dallon really hoped that Brendon wasn’t getting inspired by his story. He didn’t want Brendon to try backflipping off of anything and end up breaking something. Brendon still had his life ahead of him. He was still a good kid, in the eyes of most rational people. He could still do things with his life, and Dallon didn’t want to be the one who got him injured. 

 

“I was not holding my bass, or anything, and that’s probably for the best because I probably would have destroyed it if I’d been holding it,” Dallon said. “I’m not very acrobatic.”

 

“I am,” Brendon said, lighting up. The waitress came by and took their order, looking surprised that Dallon was there without Breezy (Dallon was still amazed that the full time waiters here knew who he and Breezy were) but not commenting on it. Brendon watched her leave and then turned his attention back to Dallon. He was bouncing in his seat a little, and Dallon thought about reaching over and pressing his palm to the top of Brendon’s head just to get him to stop moving for a moment. 

 

Brendon continued to bounce in his seat. “I taught myself how to do backflips and cartwheels and a bunch of different stuff one summer. I was twelve, I think. I was bored, and all of my older siblings were either in high school or out of the house, and I didn’t have any friends because my parents didn’t trust anyone, so I just started jumping around on the trampoline and figured out how to do stuff without breaking anything. Also, I’m Mormon too, but I’ve been thinking about leaving the church. It just doesn’t fit with how I see things, you know?”

 

“I get that,” Dallon said. He sighed. “Do you breathe when you talk?”

 

“Don’t patronise me,” Brendon said, and Dallon remembered that even though Brendon acted like he was a little kid who’d just been given too much sugar, he was a lot more than that. Dallon didn’t really know who Brendon was, but he was sitting with him in an unfamiliar booth in the back of Hedary’s, and he was pretty sure that he’d find out soon enough.

 

“Sorry,” Dallon said. “I get a bit sarcastic, at times. I think it’s a result of the meetings. They’re kind of degrading.”

 

“I mean, if you think you shouldn’t be there, they probably are,” Brendon said. “But Martin and Margaret are right sometimes, too. Not everything is black and white, sometimes people can be shitty people but still have good opinions. I mean, they’re also calling guys who grab womens’ butts gross, so that’s good.”

 

“Well, true, but they shouldn’t be passing judgement on anyone, really,” Dallon said. “And technically speaking, we shouldn’t be passing judgement on them, but we’re the sinners in this situation, and they’re the so-called saints. I think, if we’re already on bad terms with the God they see, we might as well keep going.”

 

“That’s an interesting position to have,” Brendon said. He spun his spoon around for a bit, and it looked like he was seriously thinking about something. Dallon watched him, not sure what to expect from the guy. Brendon wasn’t like anyone Dallon had met before. He’d never claimed to be an expert on reading people, but Brendon was almost impossible to read. He wasn’t angry at the church, or conflicted about its views, he just wanted to leave. He didn’t hate his parents, even though it was pretty obvious that they were overstepping their boundaries and probably needed to take a class or two on how to know when their children were seriously being deviant and when they were just lonely or impulsive teenagers. 

 

Brendon abandoned his spoon. “So, like, are you still religious? Because I know that most gay people aren’t, and I don’t know if you’re one of them or if I just offended you by saying I didn’t give a shit about religion anymore.”

 

“I’m not offended. Breezy’s and atheist and I don’t have any problems with her views,” Dallon said. He was pretty sure that Breezy was an atheist. He’d never talked specifics with her. There never seemed to be a good time. “But, yes, I’m still religious. And I’m still a Mormon, I think. I’m trying to figure a lot of things out right now, so it’s complicated. Like you said, it’s not all black and white, and I don’t want to just throw away everything I believe in because some people think I’m going to hell for loving men.”

 

“I don’t think I believe in God,” Brendon said. The way he said it made Dallon think that it was the first time he had said that out loud to anyone. Dallon wasn’t sure how he felt, being the first to hear Brendon’s confession. He didn’t know what that said about Brendon, or what his relationship to Brendon was. Brendon slouched in his seat, breaking eye contact with Dallon. “And, I think I might be gay, too. Or at least bisexual. I don’t know, but I’m kind of nervous about what’ll happen if I am.”

 

“Well, if you are, don’t tell your parents,” Dallon said. It’s what he would have told his younger self, if he’d had the chance. “And, be careful who you see and when you see them. Not everyone’s like Breezy and I, and there are people out there who are worse than Martin and Margaret.”

 

“I know that, obviously,” Brendon said, and rolled his eyes. Dallon needed to work on not being patronising towards Brendon. “I’m just worried about having to lie to my parents about who I am. I’m their son, they should know me.”

 

“Some things are best left unsaid,” Dallon said. “I don’t know your parents, and I’m sorry Breezy and I made assumptions about them earlier, but if your parents are anything like mine, they won’t accept you if you come out to them. They’ll probably never accept you, and they’ll look at you like you’re not their son, and you never were their son. It’ll feel like they’re waiting for the right moment to kick you out, to find something you’ve done that’s worthy of disowning you. It’s not fun, and it’s not worth it. Sometimes--and I think our situations are two of these occasions--it’s better to stay in the closet.”

 

“But what if I fall in love with someone and want them to meet my mom and dad?” Brendon asked. It was such an innocent question, really, but Dallon had never thought about it. He’d figured out that he liked guys when he was about fifteen, but he’s pushed that to the back of his mind so that he didn’t focus on it too much, because it was a little scary to think about. He watched his family for three years, seeing what their opinions were on gay people, and by the time he was about to leave for his mission, he’d realised that they would probably never love him if he was honest with them. Dallon would never get to bring a date to his siblings’ weddings, or have his boyfriend come over and meet his parents for dinner. 

 

Dallon had been eighteen years old, freshly out of high school, and packing for his mission when he broke down crying because he knew he’d never have a normal life. And then he’d just stopped crying, because he knew his brother or one of his parents could find him at any moment, and he didn’t want to have to explain why he was sobbing over his suitcase. So he stopped crying, wiped his face, and made himself accept it all. He was not the son his parents asked for, but he was still Dallon Weekes, and he would deal. 

 

He’d been dealing ever since, but it wasn’t until Brendon asked that question that Dallon realised how similar their lives were. Dallon frowned. “I’m not the reason you’re thinking you’re gay, am I?”

 

“So what if you are?” Brendon said, puffing his chest up. “You’re hot, you’re snarky and funny, and you’re over six feet tall. I know what I’m into, and I’m into you.”

 

“I’m sorry, then,” Dallon said. “Because your life is probably about to get really difficult.”

 

“I know, but I’m ready for it,” Brendon said. He tapped his fingers against his arm, rapidly. It was like some kind of nervous tic. “Well, I’m not entirely ready for it, because everything could go horrifically wrong and I could end up homeless or dead or something, but I have a plan and I have a bunch of different strategies to get that plan to work.”

 

“Brendon,” Dallon said, and sighed. “I’m probably not the person you should get involved with, at least not in a dating sense. I don’t have a job, I’m technically a college drop-out, and I’m living with my parents, who rarely let me out of the house because they’re certain that every time I leave and go somewhere other than here or the meetings, I’m meeting random guys and having sex with them. I just don’t think that I’m what you’re looking for, not right now.”

 

“I think we could work something out,” Brendon said. “But you’d have to be okay with sneaking out of your house. You’ve done that before, right? Sneak out while your parents are asleep to go hang out with the people they don’t like?”

 

“I’ve never snuck out of my house in my entire life,” Dallon said. He’d never tried. His bedroom was on the first floor, but he’d grown up sharing it with his brother and so he’d never been alone. His parents were also early risers, so if Dallon ever did want to sneak out late, he’d have to get back by four in the morning, so that his parents wouldn’t know he’d left the night before. Dallon hadn’t had any reason to sneak out during high school, either, because he wasn’t very popular and he knew that anything he did would come back to his parents eventually. “I did sneak out of BYU a lot, but most people did because most of the the people there came from small towns and had never been to a big city before. I’m pretty sure that doesn’t count in your world, though.”

 

“It doesn’t,” Brendon said, shaking his head. Their food was set down, and Brendon started picking through it, all while explaining how Dallon could sneak out of his house at night if he wanted to meet Brendon (and/or Breezy) somewhere after dark. Dallon didn’t take notes, because that would be a little too weird, but he did pay a lot of attention to Brendon’s ideas. It seemed like Brendon had a lot of experience with this. 

 

“You’ve done this a lot of times before, haven’t you?” Dallon asked, when Brendon paused to take a long drink from his water. 

 

Brendon nodded. “Yeah, Back before I got caught skipping class I was trying to get in with this one group of guys, and they kept going out to shows and I had to make up excuses or sneak in and out of the house so that my parents didn’t realise I was out after midnight on school nights. I learned how to get away with it, too, and I can climb out of a second story window without falling or breaking anything. I’m pretty talented.”

 

“I can tell,” Dallon said, smiling. “So, when exactly are we going to do this?”

 

“Whenever you want,” Brendon said. Dallon nodded, thinking about it. Waiting for a weekend would probably be too obvious, but if Brendon was still in school, Dallon didn’t want him to be out all night and then have to go do school things. Dallon tapped his finger against his chin. “Where would we go, and what would we do?”

 

“Ever been driving in the desert?” Brendon asked. Dallon shook his head, and Brendon lit up. “I did, once, with those guys who got me to smoke weed--which was kind of gross--and it was super fun. You’ve got a car, right?”

 

“I’ve got a minivan,” Dallon said. “Does that work?”

 

“It could, but I don’t know if it’d be as fun in a minivan. Does Breezy have a car?” Brendon asked, frowning. “Not that I think your minivan sucks, it’s just that driving in the desert is a lot more fun when you can go fast and not have to worry about the car flipping over or anything.”

 

“I don’t know,” Dallon said. “But I can ask.”

 

* * *

 

**April 21, 2003; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

Breezy didn’t have a car, but her dad had a white 2002 Mustang convertible. Brendon and Dallon lived surprisingly close to each other, and so they planned it that they’d meet up between their houses and Breezy would come pick them up to take them out to the desert. It was midnight, Dallon was staring at his ceiling, his heart beating rapidly in his chest, and his parents were asleep. Finally. He sent out a text to Breezy and Brendon, telling them that he was ready to go, and then he got out of bed.

 

He’d stashed a change of clothes under his bed, and changed into them quickly but quietly. He put his pajamas under his bed too, and then headed to his window. It faced the front of the house, but it was warm enough that it wouldn’t be too weird if it was open. No one would think to close it if they walked by. Dallon unlocked it, opened it, and climbed out, dropping softly into the gravel. He closed the window most of the way, and then walked away from his house, glancing up one final time to make sure that the lights in his parents’ bedroom were still off. They were. 

 

His converse muffled the sound, and he walked through the streets alone, hoping no one was awake to see him sneaking out. When he got to the meeting place, Brendon was already there, dressed in his usual purple hoodie and a pair of tight jeans. He grinned up at Dallon. “Excited?”

 

“More than I should be, probably,” Dallon admitted. Brendon grinned even more, and reached out to Dallon, putting his hands on Dallon’s shoulders. “I can take the edge off, if you’re cool with it.”

 

“What do you--” Dallon started to say, but he was cut off by Brendon pulling him down to kiss him. Brendon kissed like he had a point to prove, and Dallon kissed him back, even though they were on the street corner of a random neighbourhood and anyone could see them. There was something dangerous about the whole thing, and it made Dallon’s body vibrate with adrenaline. 

 

_ This, _ he thought to himself as Brendon tangled his hand in Dallon’s hair,  _ is what actual rebellion feels like. This is the shit they write songs about.  _ He kissed Brendon, one hand on Brendon’s waist and the other on his cheek, holding him close. Brendon was so alive under Dallon’s touch, like this was something real and not just a chance encounter that they’d never get to have again. 

 

Then there was the sound of a car engine, loud and aggressive in the still and quiet night air, and Brendon was jerking back like he’d been caught doing something wrong. Dallon straightened up, and ran a hand through his hair. Bright white light shone on Brendon, and Dallon turned around, squinting, to see Breezy behind the wheel of her father’s Mustang, looking like something out of an action movie. There was a sly grin on her face, like she knew just what Brendon and Dallon had been doing before she revved the engine and made herself known, but she didn’t comment on it. She pulled up beside them and said, “get in, boys. Brendon, you’re in the back because you’re tiny and you won’t complain about not having any room for your legs. Dallon, you’re shotgun.”

 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Dallon said, even as he was getting into the passenger seat of the car. Brendon got in behind him, and Dallon turned around to grin at him. Brendon grinned back, and Breezy revved the engine. They zipped off into the night, driving north because Brendon said that the desert was best north of Las Vegas, where there weren’t as many mountains and they could just drive and kick up sand. They drove down 95, hitting around 95 miles an hour because Breezy was a fast driver and Brendon was yelling from the backseat and encouraging her. Dallon threw his head back and screamed out the lyrics to  _ Come on Eileen _ as they sped down the highway. 

 

It was the closest Dallon had felt to being on top of the world, and it was like a non-stop adrenaline rush. The feeling didn’t stop when Breezy drove the car off the road and into the sand. Dust came up around them, and it got caught in the headlights, fogging up the world and making it seem like they were miles away from Las Vegas, instead of just minutes. Breezy turned up the volume on the radio, and the 80s music continued. It fit. Everything fit. Breezy managed to get the Mustang to do donuts in the desert, and Brendon leaned forward between the seats to kiss Dallon again. 

 

This time, Dallon didn’t even think about how they weren’t alone, or how he still didn’t know Brendon that well, and just focused on how it all felt. It felt like living. It felt like being alive, like getting up on stage with his bass in his hands and singing real honesty into the microphone, not caring if people understood or not. It was the best feeling in the world, probably.

 

“Hey, I know you two are having the time of your lives, but if I hit anything, you’re both going to die,” Breezy yelled over the radio and the sound of the engine. Brendon leaned away from Dallon, dropping back into the backseat. He threw his hands up in the air and let out a scream of joy. Breezy laughed, and drove faster. Dallon saw the speedometre pass 100 and just keep going. His heart was racing in his chest, and he never wanted to go back home. 

 

“I never want to go back home,” Dallon said. He didn’t know if Brendon could hear him or not, but he knew Breezy could. “Not after this. Nothing’s going to beat this.”

 

“Well, I’d take you up on that offer, but I can’t just steal my dad’s car, and none of us have anything on us to last until California. Which is where I’d be going.”

 

“You’re going to California?” Brendon asked, leaning between the front seats again. Dallon grabbed onto his hand and nodded. “Yeah, Breezy’s got this plan to get out of here and go become this famous actress, and I’m going to be the driver, since I’ve still got a vehicle of my own. We’re just trying to get funds together and figure out where in California we want to end up.”

 

“Los Angeles is the goal,” Breezy said. “But it’s expensive as fuck and I don’t know about you two, but I’ve definitely been kicked out of any family inheritance I might have gotten.”

 

“We’ll figure something out,” Brendon said. 

 

“We?” Dallon asked, looking over his shoulder and trying not to get sand in his eyes. Brendon nodded. “Yeah, if you two will have me? I’ve got a job, I can help pay for stuff?”

 

Breezy and Dallon looked at each other. Breezy looked back at the desert, so that she wouldn’t run them into a cactus or a rock or something, but she shrugged in a way that said she was fine with Brendon joining them on their roadtrip to California. Dallon turned around and told Brendon that he could join them, and that it would probably help once they got to California, because then there would be three people living in the apartment instead of just two, and that would mean less rent for everyone to have to pay. 

 

They drove around for a bit longer before the sensation of freedom started to ware off, and then Breezy turned the car around and headed back towards the city. “Do you want me to take you two back or are there more things you want to do before we split for the night?”

 

“Well, I don’t have my ID on me so it’s not like I could get into anywhere,” Brendon said. “So I guess not? Do you remember where you picked us up from?”

 

“Yeah, I’ll drop you two off there and then you’re on your own because I’ve got to get this back in the garage before my dad realises it’s gone,” Breezy said, and sped back towards Summerlin. Breezy dropped Brendon and Dallon in front of the same house that they’d had their first kiss in front of, and she gave them a peace sign before speeding off into the night. Dallon placed his hands on his hips. “If I wasn’t so gay, I’m pretty sure I’d be in love with Breezy. She’s pretty amazing.”

 

“She stole her dad’s car to take us speeding through the desert in the middle of the night,” Brendon said. “If she wasn’t the older sister of someone I’m in chorus with,  _ I’d _ be in love with her. As it is, I kind of just want to be like her. Except, as a guy. I’m not really interested in being a girl. It seems like it’s a pain in the ass.”

 

“I’ve never really thought about it,” Dallon said. He looked down at Brendon. “So, what now?”

 

“We go home and try to act like we weren’t just having the time of our lives in the desert,” Brendon said. He leaned up and pulled Dallon down to kiss him again, and they kissed in the street. Dallon pulled Brendon in close, so that their chests were pressed together, and Brendon parted his lips so that Dallon could stick his tongue in Brendon’s mouth. Dallon wasn’t much for tongue kissing, because it had never really gotten him interested, but he knew he was into biting, and so he nipped at Brendon’s lips. Brendon went limp against Dallon, holding onto him and tugging at his hair like Dallon was the only thing grounding him to this universe. He pressed one hand up under Dallon’s shirt, splaying his fingers out against Dallon’s lower back. 

 

Dallon pulled back to catch his breath, and looked down at a disheveled, blissed out Brendon. Brendon’s eyes opened, slowly, and he blinked up at Dallon before a soft grin crossed his face. “You’re a really good kisser.”

 

“Well, it’s not my first time,” Dallon said, winking down at Brendon. Brendon grinned, coming back to his senses. “You can do that any time you want.”

 

“What are you, the guy my mother was worried about?” Dallon said, and ducked down to kiss Brendon and bite at his lip again. Brendon pressed against Dallon, his hands roaming again. He pulled back, keeping their foreheads pressed together as he looked up at Dallon through his eyelashes. Brendon was breathing heavily. Dallon thought that he was super attractive.

 

Brendon ran his tongue over his lower lip. “No, I’m not who your mom was worried about, but you are definitely the kind of guy my parents were always warning my sisters about. They didn’t think to warn me, though, which is probably how I ended up here.”

 

“Are you saying I’m a bad influence? Because I’m not the one who suggested sneaking out to go driving through the desert.”

 

“I’m not saying you’re a bad influence,” Brendon said. He bit at his lower lip, and it was like he was trying to draw Dallon in, even though he already had. “But you’re every parent's worst nightmare. And older guy, college drop out, in a band, and on top of all that, you make me want to do anything to keep your attention. You’re some kind of drug, Dallon, and I’ve never done a drug in my life.”

 

“You’re smoked weed,” Dallon said. 

 

Brendon rolled his eyes. “Weed doesn’t count. People don’t get addicted to weed. People get addicted to people like you. You’re enticing. I don’t know why, but I want to be with you, and I want to do all these ridiculous, show-offy things with you.”

 

“You’re moving a little fast there, Bren,” Dallon said, but he was mostly teasing. Brendon made Dallon want to do stupid, reckless things, too. He didn’t say that out loud, because he knew better than to encourage Brendon. Brendon was pretty much where Dallon had been three years ago, and even though that wasn’t a lot of distance, it was enough that Dallon knew what would be helpful, and what would get Brendon into even more trouble than he already was with his parents. 

 

Brendon shrugged. “So? It’s not like people like us are expected to stick around for very long. I want to live while I still can.”

 

“Be careful, though,” Dallon warned him. “I don’t want to lose you, or anyone, because you’re being too reckless.”

 

“You won’t lose me,” Brendon promised. He leaned up and kissed Dallon again, and they kissed for a while until Dallon remembered that he still needed to get home before his parents woke up. He pulled away from Brendon, got his phone number, and headed back towards his house. It was four in the morning when Dallon climbed in through his window again, latching it shut behind him. He changed back into his pajamas and climbed into bed, grinning against the mattress. It had been a good night, and even though Dallon had been thrumming with energy and adrenaline the whole time, he crashed almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

 

* * *

 

**August 6, 2004; Williamsburg, Iowa.**

 

Spencer was watching Brendon and Dallon sleep. It wasn’t in a creepy way, not intentionally. He was just trying to observe them. So they’d had a thing, once, before they knew Ryan or Spencer or had considered running away to somewhere that wasn’t California. It still didn’t make sense. Spencer couldn’t figure out why Breezy wasn’t with them, or why Dallon and Brendon had been so secretive about their relationship. Maybe there were regrets involved that Spencer didn’t know yet. Ryan had had to stop last night when Dallon and Brendon got back in. 

 

“Spence, go back to sleep,” Ryan whispered. Spencer dropped back down onto his side of the mattress. He turned over onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. “It would have been weird between us if we ever dated, right?”

 

“Well, yeah, but that’s because we’ve always been more like siblings than like lovers,” Ryan said. Spencer rolled his eyes, because he could tell that she was about to get all deep and poetic, and usually Spencer didn’t mind it, but it was still too early in the morning for deep contemplation. “Most friendships are either based on sibling relationships or like romantic partners. That’s why some people are like, oh, I’d never date my best friend, and other people are constantly being asked it they’re dating their best friend. It’s all about the dynamics.”

 

“So what’re you saying?” Spencer asked. “Dallon and Brendon were always meant to get together, just because they acted like it?”

 

“No, I’m saying it’s not surprising that they have a history,” Ryan said. “I mean, I know how it ends--”

 

“You can tell me, whenever you’d like.”

 

“--I’m not going to tell you  _ now _ ; they’re right over there. But I know how they end, and I know that there’s no chance of them ever getting back together, at least not for a while. So,” Ryan said, and she turned her head to face Spencer, grinning at him. “If you want to date Brendon, it’s not like you’ve got any competition. Go for it.”

 

“I’m not trying to date Brendon,” Spencer said. He rolled his eyes, ignoring how his face was heating up. He had a crush on Brendon. It was no big deal. Spencer could just ignore it until it went away, and until then, he could just have occasional late night make-out sessions with the guy. 

 

“Are you sure?” Ryan whispered, elbowing Spencer’s side. Spencer elbowed her back, because Ryan was bony and her elbows actually hurt. They ended up getting into a genuine elbowing match. Both of them were giggling and shushing the other, because they knew that Brendon and Dallon were still asleep and it would be rude to wake them up so early in the morning. The car repair place across the road didn’t even open until nine. They couldn’t leave until after then. 

 

Spencer elbowed Ryan so that he hit her with his funny bone, and he muttered a soft, “fuck,” and jerked away. Ryan paused, looking at Spencer worriedly. “You okay?”

 

“You’re bony, and I hit a nerve or something,” Spencer whispered back. There was the sound of sheets ruffling around from behind Spencer, and the two of them turned around to see Dallon sitting up in bed and rubbing his hand across his face. He looked tired, but also like he’d been enjoying his sleep before Spencer and Ryan woke him up. Spencer felt a little guilty about that, but Dallon was still gorgeous in the morning. He was all sleep ruffled. It was adorable. 

 

“Morning, Dallon,” Ryan said. Dallon made a movement with his hand that seemed like a wave but could just have easily been a twitch and nothing more. He was awake, at least, even if he wasn’t fully aware of everything. 

 

Dallon slid out of the bed and muttered something about grabbing a shower and seeing if there was anything downstairs. For once, they were all staying in a place that offered breakfast, which was pretty cool. Spencer hadn’t had a lot of hotel breakfasts in his life, since his family didn’t travel too much together (having three children and two working parents kept that from being reasonable). Spencer and Ryan stayed behind, neither of them ready to get out of bed and do anything yet. It was still early. They’d still be stuck in Williamsburg for a few more hours. 

 

“You know it’s a Friday, right?” Ryan whispered to Spencer. On the other bed, Brendon pulled Dallon’s pillow in closer and shifted around in his sleep. It was pretty impressive that he was still asleep, even after Dallon had gotten up and gone downstairs and Ryan and Spencer had been whispering at each other. 

 

Spencer nodded. “Yeah? What’s so interesting about that?”

 

“If you were back in Summerlin, you’d have only a week or two before school,” Ryan said. “You’d probably be calling me to complain about how unfair it was that you had to start school now and I still had another month.”

 

“Except you don’t,” Spencer said. “Aren’t you doing that summer program for English majors or whatever?”

 

“Yeah, but that doesn’t really count as school,” Ryan said. She hummed. “Okay, well, maybe it does, since I get credits for it, but it’s like fun school. It doesn’t count for the part of school that’s a pain in the ass. It’s not like high school, where everything sucks and you can’t wait to leave.”

 

“You’re not going to get weird an distant, are you?” Spencer whispered. He hadn’t realised he was afraid of losing his best friend until then. The thought had filtered through his mind a few times, since Spencer had known all along that Ryan was a year older than him and she’d be going to college and into the adult world first. He’d never realised that he was afraid of it happening, though. “College isn’t going to change our friendship, right?”

 

“Spence, I don’t think you could get me out of your life even if you wanted to,” Ryan said. She reached out and took Spencer’s hand under the covers. Her fingers were long and bony, but warm against Spencer’s skin, and it felt like home. “You’re my best friend, and you’re the only person I want beside me in my life. Even if shit hits the fan and me and Jon don’t work out, or I have to drop out of college because I can’t keep all of my scholarships, I want you there. I trust you, and I care about you.”

 

“And I’m like a brother to you?” Spencer said, almost teasingly. Ryan nodded, though, and the whole exchange felt a lot deeper. 

 

Ryan squeezed Spencer’s hand. “I’m not leaving you. We’re in this together.”

 

“Okay,” Spencer said. “Don’t leave me in Chicago, though. The only people there I know are Fall Out Boy, and I don’t think they’d be willing to let me just crash in their apartment or wherever they live now.”

 

Ryan laughed. She told Spencer that she was pretty sure Fall Out Boy no longer lived in a tiny Chicago apartment, because now they were getting air time, so surely they could all afford their own apartments. There was a weird parallel between Fall Out Boy and Spencer and Ryan’s new band line up, starting with the tiny apartment in Chicago. Maybe this would be what would get Spencer and Ryan’s band going. All they needed was a name and a cramped apartment. 

 

* * *

 

**August 6, 2004: Davenport, Iowa.**

 

They grabbed lunch in a city called Davenport. Ryan was texting Jon while they ordered their food and waited for it to come out, telling him how far out they were and asking him if the apartment was ready for everyone to move in yet (it was). While they were eating their food,  _ Video Killed the Radio Star _ came on the radio playing in the diner, and Brendon kept elbowing Dallon about it. Dallon rolled his eyes, pushing Brendon away, and then Brendon decided to start singing along. 

 

Spencer raised his eyebrows at the two of them. “Is there a reference here I’m missing?”

 

“Breezy tried to convince Brendon that I’d written this song and it was just me angsting about how the Brobecks never got to really be a band,” Dallon said. He twirled a fry around in ketchup. “I don’t hate it, because there are some good memories attached to it, but there’s a bit of an inside joke that it’s our song or something. It’s not, though.”

 

“It could be, if you’d stop being weird about it all,” Brendon rolled his eyes. The song faded into something new, something that Spencer didn’t recognise immediately. Brendon perked up, though. “Oh, hey, this is that song that was playing when we were driving around in the desert that one time!”

 

“With Breezy?” Spencer asked, without even thinking about it. Brendon hadn’t told him that part of the Breezy story yet, so Spencer shouldn’t have known about it. Beside him, Ryan tensed up, like she knew that Spencer had fucked up. Spencer swallowed and added, “I mean, I’m assuming she was there? You three were friends once, weren’t you?”

  
“Yeah, we were,” Dallon said, his words clipped. He couldn’t have made it more obvious that he was hiding something from Spencer, and maybe Ryan. Spencer didn’t know how much of the Breezy story Ryan knew, just that she knew more than Spencer. Spencer nodded, and changed the subject. Something had happened between the two of them and Breezy, and their three-way friendship hadn’t ended pleasantly. Spencer could respect that, and he could wait until he and Ryan were alone to ask for the rest of the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed, and feel free to come talk to me on my tumblr (@brallencer)!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chicago! Jon! Dildos! 
> 
> A lot happens in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long. For some reason my brain was just like "ughhh" every time I tried to write the last scene and so it took me like an entire week to write it. Everything else was fine, just the last scene. 
> 
> Hopefully it's worth the wait, though!
> 
> ((And, yes, they do have sex in this chapter, in case you weren't sure))

**August 6, 2004: Ashton, Illinois.**

 

“Skip that song,” Dallon said. He’d been in a mood since they left lunch, but he was driving a lot faster now. Like he had a time limit to get to Chicago. Spencer didn’t know why Dallon didn’t want to listen to  _ Faithfully _ , though except that it was a cheesy song and also it was a Journey song that wasn’t  _ Don’t Stop Believing _ . Anyone could appreciate  _ Don’t Stop Believing _ , if they were with the right group of friends who would sing along loudly. 

 

Brendon skipped the song. Spencer and Ryan didn’t ask questions. 

 

They’re out in the middle of nowhere, Illinois, and the only thing outside of Spencer’s window is corn. He’s pretty sure he’s never been more bored in his life. He’d love for something to happen, something to break up the monotony of the drive or cut through the silent tension in the car that not even  _ Take On Me _ could break through. The corn wasn’t stopping. There was nothing to take on. Spencer just wanted to get to Chicago so that he could breathe and sleep on something that wasn’t a car seat or an unfamiliar motel bed for what would feel like the first time. 

 

He missed his parents, but not in the way that would make him want to go back to Las Vegas. He just missed the familiarity of being a teenager in the summer. He missed the stifling heat of Las Vegas, and Ryan coming over to his house or the pool and the two of them complaining about summer homework while eating ice-pops. 

 

He missed being a normal kid, but he had never really been a normal kid. He was trans and bisexual; he didn’t get the luxury of having a nice and easy childhood. Chicago would be better, hopefully, even if it wasn’t perfect. Spencer just wanted to be somewhere where he and Ryan didn’t have to worry about being in trouble for expressing their identities in public. If they were in a new city, where no one knew them before they came out, maybe he and Ryan would be able to pass off as cis and not have to deal with any of the bullshit that came with being transgender.

 

Spencer sighed, and closed his eyes, leaning back in his seat. The car was quiet for once, because apparently Brendon wasn’t up for singing along to the music, and so Spencer drifted off to the sounds of Van Halen and the never ending corn of middle of nowhere, Illinois. 

 

When he woke up again, it was to Ryan and Dallon whispering directions back and forth at each other. Ryan had leaned into the space between the front seats, and her sunglasses were down low on her nose. She was squinting at the road signs as they passed them, and Spencer realised that they had made it to Chicago and Ryan was trying to figure out how to get the minivan and it’s inhabitants all the way to Jon’s apartment. 

 

“Wait, no, turn there--shit,” Ryan said, and Dallon echoed her as a car cut him off from the turn he was supposed to take. They were still on a highway, but apparently they had missed their exit to get onto another inner-Chicago highway. Ryan slumped back into her seat, told Dallon to grab the next exit, and pulled out her phone to call Jon. “Hey, babe, we’re going to be a little later than expected… Nothing bad happened, some dick just cut Dallon off and we missed the exit off of 88… I know we can get there that way, but I don’t have the route memorised… I’ve only got one bar left, Jon, I can’t just hand the phone to Dallon and have you navigate.”

 

Ryan lowered her phone from her face. “Jon said to stay on this highway until we get to the exit for I-90, and then to call him back and he’d redirect us from there.”

 

“How long until we get to I-90?” Dallon asked. 

 

“A while?” Ryan guessed. “It’ll look like we’re in the middle of a downtown area when we get close, apparently.”

 

She said a few more things to Jon, mentioning what was around them and how far out she thought they were from the apartment, and then hung up. Ryan leaned over and nudged Spencer’s shoulder. “We’re almost there, wake up.”

 

“I’ve been awake,” Spencer said, and nudged her back. 

 

“Yeah, well, pay attention,” Ryan said. “Because once we get to downtown, I’m gonna call Jon back, and there’s probably going to be a lot of screaming because I don’t really know where I am and Jon can’t see the road over a phone call.”

 

There was a lot of screaming. Surprisingly, they didn’t miss any more turns, but there were a few times where Spencer thought they would. Brendon looked startled by the whole thing, but of course, he’d never seen a stressed Ryan Ross before. Spencer was used to this, and how Ryan would get about ten times more bitchy when she was feeling stressed. Trying to tell Jon where she was while also giving Dallon directions was pretty stressful. Spencer wasn’t even the one doing it, and he could feel the stress radiating off of his best friend. 

 

They finally got to the apartment building, though, and it was a surprisingly nice building. Ryan told Jon that she’d arrived, and said goodbye before instructing Dallon to just parallel park the van in front of the building. There was a guy sitting on the front steps of the building, and he had a phone in his hand. Spencer had never seen him before, but judging by the context and how the guy was watching the Brobecks van intently, he assumed it was Jon. He poked Ryan to get her attention anyway. “Hey, is that your boyfriend?”

 

“Oh, shit, it is,” Ryan said, her face splitting into a wide grin. She almost jumped out of the minivan before Dallon had parked it, but Spencer held her back because he didn’t want them to get this far just for Ryan to break her neck from jumping out of a (slow) moving vehicle. As soon as Dallon turned the car off, though, Ryan was pulling the door open and jumping out into the street to run around the car and up to where Jon was sitting. Jon stood up as soon as he saw her, and he grinned, meeting her halfway and pulling her in for a hug. 

 

“So, that’s Jon then,” Brendon said from the front seat. He turned around to look at Spencer. “I didn’t know Ryan could look that happy.”

 

“Yeah, well, she’s in love,” Spencer said. “Apparently weird shit happens when you fall in love with someone.”

 

That, of course, was part of the reason Spencer was wary about developing a real crush on Brendon. Spencer had never been in any kind of relationship that involved labels. He was pretty sure he’d fuck it all up if he did, and he didn’t want to get hurt. He was pretty sure Brendon could hurt him, if Spencer let him. 

 

“Come on, let’s get everything inside,” Spencer said, and opened his door. He jumped out onto the pavement and strode over to Ryan and Jon, who hadn’t separated since they’d been united. Spencer was glad that Ryan had found someone, and that she could finally be with her boyfriend in real life. He stood patiently behind Ryan while she had her moment with her boyfriend, but eventually Jon looked up and noticed Spencer standing there.  

 

Jon waved. “Hey. You’re Spencer?”

 

“Yeah,” Spencer said. “And you’re Jon. I know maybe three things about you.”

 

“That’s okay, I know maybe four things about you,” Jon said. 

 

Ryan rolled her eyes. “So I kept my two lives separate, so what? You’ve met now, please don’t get all weird and competitive with each other.”

 

“I wasn’t going to,” They both said at the same time. Ryan just shook her head. Maybe she knew something Spencer didn't. 

 

* * *

 

**February 16, 2004; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

Ryan found Spencer before his first period, which was impressive considering Ryan rarely showed up to school before first period. But there she was, waiting for Spencer outside of this first period class like they were some iconic high school couple and in love with each other or whatever bullshit made movies sell. Spencer pulled out his earbuds and paused his music, pulling Ryan away from the people filtering in and out of the classroom. “What’s up?”

 

“I have a boyfriend,” Ryan said. She was smiling a little, so either her weird internet crush had finally disappeared and she’d replaced him with someone in real life, or she was in some kind of weird, online relationship with a guy she’d never met before. 

 

“Congratulations,” Spencer said. “What’s his name?”

 

“Jon,” Ryan said. Spencer groaned internally. Jon was the name of Ryan’s weird internet crush, and he was some random guy she’d met in an online forum and then started PMing with. And she said she had a thing for him, but Spencer didn’t really understand how Ryan could be crushing on someone she’d never met. Ryan must have noticed that Spencer looked unimpressed with the news that she was dating someone she’d met online, because she frowned and said, “it ‘s a good thing, Spence. I promise. It’s not like I’m sending him nudes or anything I wouldn’t put on my public profile. And Jon knows about the whole trans, thing, and he’s cool with it.”

 

“That’s great, but you don’t actually know him,” Spencer said. “Have you ever seen his face?”

 

“I skyped with him on Valentine’s day,” Ryan said. “That’s when he asked to be my boyfriend, by the way.”

 

“How romantic,” Spencer said. 

 

Ryan rolled her eyes at him, like he was some kid and she was so much more emotionally mature just because she was a year older and now had a boyfriend and they’d labelled their relationship and everything. “Oh come on, like you wouldn’t be swooning to me if you ever got into a relationship with someone.”

 

“That’s assuming someone would want to be in a relationship with me,” Spencer argued. Ryan shook her head and patted him on the head, promising him that he’s find someone eventually. Spencer wasn’t sure if he believed her or not. So far, no one had ever expressed interest in him, even though he’d expressed interest in people before. He wasn’t tall and lanky like Ryan, nor did he have a mysterious, intriguing air about him. He was just average. 

 

“Oh, hey, can I come over to your house after school?” Ryan asked. Spencer was nodding before Ryan even started explaining why she didn’t want to go home. Spencer didn’t need an excuse, even though he knew it made Ryan feel better about spending almost all of her time at Spencer’s house. Ryan grabbed the straps of her backpack. “Okay, cool. I just don’t want to go back home until I have to. My dad’s been acting worse since he found some stuff I bought.”

 

“Gender stuff?” Spencer asked, quietly, because there were people around the two of them, and Spencer knew that Ryan didn’t want anyone other than Spencer to know that she was trans. Ryan nodded. Spencer made a face. “Well, fuck your dad then. You can spend the night at my house if you want to. My parents won’t care.”

 

“Thanks,” Ryan said. She glanced around to make sure that no one was paying too much attention to the two of them, and then said, “also, I’m probably going to borrow your computer to Skype Jon, so, that’ll happen.”

 

“I’m leaving the room when you do,” Spencer said, rolling his eyes. “I can’t believe you’re dating someone you met off the internet.”

 

* * *

 

**August 6, 2004; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Of the four rooms in the apartment, three of them were large and one of them was on the smaller side. Brendon volunteered to take the smallest bedroom, claiming that he didn’t take up much space anyway. Jon and Ryan got the largest, since they were rooming together, and then Dallon and Spencer flipped for the remaining two rooms. Spencer ended up in the one in the front of the apartment, with a view out onto the street. 

 

He was in the middle of unpacking the one suitcase he had packed (and realising that he hadn’t brought sheets or a pillow and neither were provided), when his phone started to buzz in his back pocket. Spencer dropped his shirts back into his suitcase and pulled his cellphone out. It was his mom. Spencer flipped the phone open and held it to his ear. “Hey mom, we just moved in.”

 

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said. “How’s Ryan doing? Is there anything you two need for the apartment? Your dad and I can transfer some money to your account and you can go get anything you two need for the apartment.”

 

“Thanks mom,” Spencer said, and stared at his bed, which was currently just a mattress and looked a little sad. It looked a lot sad, actually. Spencer couldn’t believe that he’d forgotten to get bedsheets and a pillow of all things. He let out a sigh. “This is a lot harder than I expected.”

 

“I know,” she said, and for a moment, Spencer thought she was going to tell him that he could come back if he changed his mind about Chicago. Spencer knew he could come back, but Ryan couldn’t and that was where the distinction was. Spencer was doing this in solidarity. Ryan was doing this because she had no other option. Spencer wasn’t about to flake out on his friend. His mom didn't say that, though. She said, “and I’ll support you as best I can from here. If you or Ryan ever need help with being an adult, feel free to call your father or I. We’re on your side, Spencer. We want you to do well.”

 

“Thanks,” Spencer said again. Someone was knocking on his door. “Someone’s knocking, I gotta go. I’ll text you the address in a minute, okay?”

 

“Alright,” she said. “Be safe.”

 

“I will,” Spencer said. They hung up, and Spencer dropped his phone on the bed before walking over and opening the door. Brendon was on the other side, grinning and bouncing on his heels. Spencer raised his eyebrows. “You’re excited.”

 

“Dude, we’re living in an apartment,” Brendon said. “On a college campus, with no adult supervision. We can do whatever we want!”

 

“We can’t have pets!” Jon called out from the other room. Spencer couldn’t tell if he was saying it as a warning, or if he had just found out and he was offended that he couldn’t keep pets in his apartment. 

 

Brendon laughed. “Okay, so we can do whatever we want except have a dog. But still, that’s a lot of stuff. I want to try everything. And I want to try a lot of it with you.”

 

“Oh,” Spencer said. He didn’t think about dating, and going out on actual dates that weren’t just two guys hanging out and having fun with each other. He didn’t think about that at all. He just grabbed his phone and his wallet and let Brendon choose where in Chicago they’d go exploring. Spencer didn’t ask Brendon what they were, because Spencer wasn’t ready to hear an answer. He wanted to date Brendon, but he didn’t want Brendon to know that he wanted to date him, unless Brendon also wanted to date Spencer. It was all very complicated. 

 

* * *

 

**May 15, 2004; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

Ryan and Spencer went to prom. Spencer wasn’t sure why they even bothered, since they’d both be ignored the entire night. Somehow, the entire school had come to a consensus about Ryan and Spencer, and had decided that the two of them were weirdos who needed to be shunned at all cost. 

 

It was probably because Ryan had already bought the tickets. Prom tickets were expensive, as was the suit that Spencer’s mom had rented for him. 

 

Prom was pretty boring, and Ryan and Spencer hung out at a table in the back for the whole thing. The only people who were willing to hang out with them didn’t go to their high school, and so they were entirely alone. Spencer was bored. Ryan was texting someone, and Spencer was pretty sure it was her internet boyfriend. He poked at her ankle under the table. “Ryan, this sucks.”

 

“I know,” Ryan sighed. “Everyone talks about prom like it’s some kind of religious experience, and that you haven’t really lived unless you’ve gone to senior prom and, like, made out with three strangers and lost your virginity to someone in a hotel room. It’s some kind of milestone in life, or whatever, but I don’t feel like I’ve evolved at all here. It’s just a bunch of prep school kids dancing to music and pretending they’re cooler than they really are.”

 

“Wanna go do something else then?” Spencer asked, because he definitely wanted to leave prom. They didn’t have a limo or anything, just Spencer’s mom’s car (she’d said they could stay out as late as they wanted so long as the car didn’t get scratched up) and rented suits. Maybe prom would have been different if Ryan and Spencer had had friends to go with or a rented limo to ride in, but they’d never know. This was Spencer’s prom experience. It fucking sucked. 

 

“Yeah, but I don’t know what we’d do,” Ryan said. Spencer didn’t know either, but it was a Saturday night, so surely something would be available for them to do. They got in the car, with Ryan driving because she was older and because she was a safer driver than Spencer, at least according to Spencer’s mom. Spencer thought Ryan overreacted to things coming towards her lane. 

 

“Downtown?” Spencer offered, while they were just driving through Summerlin. 

 

“Sounds good,” Ryan said. She drove them towards the heart of the city, where tourists came to feel like they were in a never ending party. It had to be a foreigner thing, because Ryan and Spencer had lived in Las Vegas for most of their lives, and Spencer had never felt anything special about downtown. It was just flashy and fake. He was pretty sure Ryan agreed, and she’d been there longer than he had. 

 

The city was lit up as usual, bright and inviting and taunting people with the possibility of becoming rich in only minutes. Spencer didn’t buy it. He wanted to believe that it was real, that there was some kind of fantasy adult life where everything was cool and fun and the party never ended, but he was slowly starting to realise that that wasn’t how life worked. He and Ryan were outcasts, the joke of their school, and they didn’t even have a band anymore. They were just two kids from Las Vegas with dreams. 

 

“Did I tell you I figured out where I’m going to college?” Ryan asked. She turned off the freeway and started driving away from all the shiny stuff. Maybe she’d stopped believing in the Las Vegas magic too. 

 

“Really?” Spencer said, messing with his bowtie. It was kind of uncomfortable, now that he was in a car and not in a school gym, pretending to have a social life outside of Ryan. “Where’re you going?”

 

“It’s a surprise,” she said. Spencer looked over, and saw that Ryan had a shit-eating grin on her face. Of course she was keeping it a secret. He rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to elbow her in the side. She was driving. Distracting Ryan while she was driving would not be the best idea ever. She glanced over at Spencer and winked. “I’ll tell you before I leave, though. Don’t worry about it.”

 

“You’re doing this just to fuck with me, aren’t you?” Spencer said. 

 

“I have to keep myself entertained over summer somehow,” she said, and shrugged. “Oh, hey, that’s the campus.”

 

They’d ended up in front of UNLV, headlights spilling onto the side of some academic building. There was a parking lot near by and Ryan pulled into one of the empty spaces without checking to see if she was even allowed to. She turned off the car and she and Spencer sat in silence for a moment before Ryan turned to him and asked, “wanna go wander around campus? There’re probably college parties we can sneak into.”

 

“We’re wearing prom suits,” Spencer said. “No one’s going to let us into a college party if we look like this.”

 

“Well, Cinderella, I’ve got clothes in the back seat,” Ryan said, and then climbed between the seats without even asking Spencer if he was okay with changing in the backseat of his mom’s car. He was, of course, but that wasn’t the point. He would have at liked for Ryan to ask his opinion, if nothing else. Spencer climbed into the backseat anyway, and caught what Ryan threw at him. 

 

It wasn’t much of a change. Spencer kept his dress shirt, but lost the bowtie and vest to replace them with a different vest that wasn’t so fancy, and also a pair of tight black jeans and some converse. Spencer frowned at the jeans, half ducked over so that his mostly naked legs weren’t on display. “Dude, these are girl jeans.”

 

“Girl jeans are in,” Ryan argued. Spencer couldn’t see what she was changing into, because she’d retreated to the trunk and thrown her prom clothes over the back seats. She popped her head up over the seats, and her hair was a mess. “Come on, it’s not like anyone is going to remember who we are. And I promise I’m not going here next year.”

 

“You mean you’re leaving me all alone?” Spencer said, mock-offended. He could see Ryan roll her eyes before she disappeared back behind the seats. Spencer changed into the jeans and put on the Converse. Ryan was still getting her shit together, and so Spencer perched himself on one of the middle seats and just waited. After five more minutes, she still wasn’t done, and so Spencer asked, “what are you doing back there? It’s been like an hour.”

 

“Hold on,” she said. “Don’t rush me.”

 

Spencer pretended to be super annoyed with how long Ryan was taking, and he heard her laugh from the back of the car, so he figured it was all worth something. A group of girls walked past the car, all of them dressed in low rise, tight skirts and crop tops. Spencer didn’t understand fashion. He rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbow, because it was starting to get warm at night and he didn’t want to end up sweaty and gross if he and Ryan were going to go and pretend to be in college. 

 

“Okay, I’m ready, let’s go,” Ryan said, and climbed over the back seats. She was dressed just like those girls, including the tight skirt. Spencer had not expected that. He stared at her. She crossed her arms over her chest. “What? It’s not like anyone is going to see us ever again after tonight. I might as well dress how I want.”

 

“I always assumed you would end up dressing like a Fall Out Boy groupie, since you’re so far up their asses,” Spencer said. 

 

Ryan made a face. “If I ever put fake pink extensions in my hair, shoot me, okay? That’s just dumb.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Spencer said. He opened the door of his mom’s car, and he and Ryan got out. They were really doing this. They were dressed up like they were two college students out on a Saturday night, ready to have fun. This was really going to happen. 

 

* * *

 

**August 6, 2004; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

“Did you ever get to go to prom?” Brendon asked. He and Spencer had given up on exploring Chicago and had found a beach near the apartment. They were out in the sand, sunglasses on, and ignoring everyone around them. It felt like something from a romance novel, except it was the middle of the day and a public beach in Chicago was one of the least romantic places Spencer could think of. 

 

Spencer stretched his legs out in the sand. “Kind of. I was Ryan’s friend date to her senior prom since she was dating Jon and didn’t have anyone else to go with, but it was really boring. We left early.”

 

“That sucks,” Brendon said. “I never got to go to prom. I mean, I could have, last spring, but I didn’t have anyone to go with and it was also during a really bad time.”

 

“What do you mean, a bad time?” Spencer asked. Brendon looked out at the water. The wind whipped around them, messing up their hair and pulling at their clothes. Brendon drew something in the sand, but it wasn’t a real picture, it was just his finger moving around and making meaningless shapes. 

 

“It uh, it was about a year since a friend of mine passed away,” Brendon said. “And I’d been kicked out of my house, and I didn’t have anywhere to stay… it was just really bad. I wouldn’t have had a date, anyway, so there was no reason for me to bother going.”

 

“Sorry about that,” Spencer said. He was sorry in the sense that Brendon had never gotten the chance to experience prom. Prom was overrated, from what Spencer had gathered from his hour of experience. Brendon looked up at Spencer, finally, and smiled at him. And then he leaned in and kissed Spencer, right there on a public beach where anyone could see them. Brendon was a good kisser, now that he’d had some time to learn what he was doing with his mouth. He pulled back from Spencer and looked at him with wide, dark brown eyes. He was kind of beautiful. “We should go swimming.”

 

“We should not,” Spencer countered, because he hadn’t brought any swimwear and it wasn’t like he particularly enjoyed swimming, being trans and all. There weren’t many suits out there that hid his chest, and it was weird to be wearing a shirt over his binder every time he and Ryan went to the pool. 

 

Brendon pouted. “Why not? It’s summer, it’s fun, we have friends who would be willing to go with us--”

 

“I don’t have anything to swim in,” Spencer said. It was a lot easier to say that instead of the real reason. Spencer had learned that sometimes, cisgender people didn’t really want to hear the truth about trans people’s feelings. Even if they meant well. They just didn’t get it, even when they were trying to get it. 

 

“Oh, well, we can get you something, or your mom can send it, or whatever,” Brendon said. Spencer sighed, and kissed him again instead of answering. Words were a pain in the ass, anyway. They were more Ryan’s thing. 

 

Eventually, the boys gave up on the beach and stood up, dusting their asses of sand before heading back to the Brobecks van which had been parked a few blocks away. They held hands, even though that was gay and Spencer had no idea how accepting Chicago was about gay stuff. Brendon was holding onto Spencer pretty tightly, and Spencer wasn’t afraid enough to let go. They only let go of each other when they were in the car and Brendon was starting it up to drive back to Ryan and Jon’s apartment. 

 

They passed a few drugstores on their way back, and that reminded Spencer of the Walgreens in North Platte where he and Brendon had made out in front of and then later gone off to some random high school football field to have almost sex in the grass. Spencer tapped Brendon on the shoulder, startling him from his dramatic rendition of Footloose. “Hey, we should get condoms.”

 

“What?” Brendon said, still bouncing along to the song. “Why?”

 

“Brendon.”

 

“Oh, oh yeah,” Brendon said, and put his turn signal on to pull into the upcoming CVS. He hovered behind Spencer the entire time, eyes wide with wonder as Spencer scanned the small section of condoms and lube and other sex assistants to see what was offered. Spencer tried not to get embarrassed. He was sixteen. He’d be seventeen in less than a month and if he wanted to have safe, consensual sex with his Brendon, then he could. 

 

He ended up just grabbing a pack of Trojan condoms because he knew that Ryan had used those with one of her girlfriends before and since Ryan had never gotten anyone pregnant, they were probably reliable. Spencer also grabbed a box of CapriSun, since he knew that Brendon liked those and he was hoping that the cashier wouldn’t focus too much on the condoms or the pair of teenage boys buying them. 

 

The cashier didn’t say anything. She just scanned the two items and asked if Spencer had a rewards card. He didn’t, but his mom did, and so he used her phone number and ended up getting a dollar off of the CapriSun. The condoms weren’t on sale. He didn’t look back at Brendon, because he could sense that Brendon was vibrating with nervousness behind him, and if Spencer looked back at Brendon, he’d lose any sense of compusure he’d been faking through this entire ordeal. 

 

They headed back to the car and Spencer dropped the bag of CapriSun and condoms between his feet. Brendon held the steering wheel and just stared at the brick wall in front of them for a moment, before saying, “holy shit, we just bought condoms.”

 

“Well, yeah,” Spencer said. “That’s usually what happens when you’re trying to have sex with someone.”

 

“Wait, how is that going to work?” Brendon asked, turning to Spencer. “Because you don’t have a dick--”

 

“Thanks for reminding me.”

 

“--I didn’t mean it as, like, a bad thing, I just know that that kind of thing can make sex dysphoric or whatever, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable but I really want to have sex with you,” Brendon said. He was wide-eyed and earnest, and Spencer was a little in love with him. 

 

That was a terrifying thought to have, considering that Spencer wasn’t sure where he and Brendon stood relationship wise, and so Spencer ignored it. He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Well, I mean, you don’t have to be the one fucking me. I could always fuck you. We’d need lube for that, though.”

 

“How would you fuck me, though,” Brendon said, the words “fuck me” foreign but almost desperate on his tongue. Like he’d never considered the idea of being fucked before then, but now that Spencer had put it in his head, he couldn’t get it out. Brendon swallowed. “I mean, what would you be putting in me, and where would you be putting it in me?”

 

“Uh, probably my fingers or a dildo, if we could get one or get someone to get us one,” Spencer said. He could feel his face getting warm. He wasn’t even embarrassed, really. It was just a weird conversation to be having in general. “And I’d be putting them up your ass. Have you never watched porn?”

 

“I’ve never had my own computer, and it wasn’t like I could just go to Dallon’s house and borrow his,” Brendon said. “His parents would probably skin us both if they ever found out there was gay porn in his search history.”

 

“Right,” Spencer said. “Well, I can show you some stuff. I’m going to need Ryan’s laptop, though, but she’ll probably let me borrow it since she used my computer to talk to Jon all the time before we moved.”

 

“So, we have a plan?” Brendon said. 

 

Spencer nodded. Brendon grinned, and started the engine. He turned up the end of Footloose again, singing along, and Spencer reconsidered all of his life choices. He was going to have to explain gay sex to the guy who could be his boyfriend but wasn’t, because they’d never bothered to put a label on themselves and Spencer wasn’t going to be the one to bite the bullet and do it himself. 

 

* * *

 

**May 15, 2004; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

College parties had fees to get in, apparently. Spencer and Ryan hadn’t seen that coming, but luckily, Spencer still had a wad of cash from his mom, who had told him to treat himself and Ryan after prom finished. So, the two of them got in without any problem, and were immediately handed cups of punch. Ryan almost didn’t take hers, glaring at the guy holding the punch like he’d hit Spencer in the face with a shovel, but Spencer leaned in and whispered, “you don’t have to drink it,” and she relented. 

 

Spencer followed Ryan around the party, not sure what the point was or why Ryan had brought them here. She had a boyfriend, and Spencer had enough of a babyface that there was no way he’d get laid. He didn’t see the point. 

 

Maybe there wasn’t a point. Maybe this was just Ryan proving something to herself, and Spencer was just there because he was her best friend and she wanted to prove something to him, too. Spencer just tried not to lose his best friend to the hoards of college kids dancing and grinding to music that Spencer didn’t recognise. He hadn’t listened to mainstream radio in a few years. He was really out of the loop with what normal teenagers did in their spare time. 

 

Spencer lost Ryan. When he realised this, he swore under his breath and pushed through the crowd, trying to find her again. He thought he saw her, but it was just another girl with a similar bobbed haircut. Spencer rolled his eyes. Ryan wore it better. The girl must have noticed Spencer staring, because she turned around and winked at him. Spencer froze. The girl winked again, and motioned for Spencer to move closer. 

 

Spencer did, slowly, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Girls didn’t get interested in Spencer first, especially not college girls. But this girl was either drunk or had low standards, because as soon as Spencer was within hearing range, she introduced herself--”Hey! I’m Catie, with a C! You’re super cute!”--and asked Spencer to dance with her. Spencer tried to tell her that he was looking for his friend, but she was already in his space, and the song that was just a guy yelling “Yeah!” over and over again came on again, and the whole house seemed to erupt in the lyrics. 

 

It was wild, and it was interesting, but there was still no sight of Ryan, and Spencer was starting to worry that he’d lost her completely. He excused himself from the girl, but not after she planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek, and continued his route around the party. 

 

Finally, he spotted Ryan. She was sitting on a couch between another girl and some guy who’s hair was straighter than most of the people from Spencer’s high school. Spencer pushed through the three people between him and his best friend, and stood in front of her. “Where’d you go? I thought I lost you for a second.”

 

“I thought I lost you, honestly,” she said. She was trying to make her voice sound higher. She was trying to pass off as cis in front of these people. Spencer could understand why (he didn’t want anyone to realise that he was trans, either) but it still caught him by surprise. Ryan never tried to pass vocally when she was with Spencer. She always just let her voice do whatever the fuck it wanted that day. 

 

Ryan crossed and uncrossed her legs, like she couldn’t figure out which position was more feminine. “I was going to find you, but I got distracted. Wanna sit down?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Spencer said. He squeezed in between Ryan and the other girl, and was introduced to the two of them. Ryan’s lie for the night was that she and Spencer were both freshman, escaping from the hell that was the end of the semester, and that they were looking for somewhere fun to be. This party, at some random person’s house, was apparently the place they needed. Ryan was the better liar of the two of them, since she’d had to do it more growing up, and so Spencer just followed her lead and let Ryan do most of the backstory. 

 

At the end of the night, they’d made a few friends, and Spencer had gotten Catie’s number from one of her friends. Catie found Spencer again, and kept trying to get him to go upstairs with her, but Ryan looked tired and ready to go home, so he turned her down. “Maybe another time, but we’ve really got to go.”

 

Catie frowned. “You shouldn’t let your girlfriend pull you around like that. Let yourself have some fun, once in a while.”

 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Spencer said. Catie didn’t look convinced. Spencer sighed, and played the Jon card. “She’s got a boyfriend, in Chicago. They’re completely smitten with each other. I’m just her best friend, promise. I’ll call you later.”

 

* * *

 

**August 10, 2004; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Ryan sat down on Spencer’s bed, holding the package that he had made her order. She was looking at him like she didn’t agree with his life choices, but Spencer wasn’t the one who’d moved in with his online boyfriend. Spencer had fallen for someone in real life, like normal people. 

 

“I still don’t know why you need this,” Ryan said, looking down at the package. “But, I’m not going to try and direct your sex life. Just make sure he gets you off too, okay? Too many people fake their orgasms because cis dudes couldn’t find a clitoris if their lives depended on it.”

 

“Never say clitoris in front of me ever again,” Spencer said, and made grabby hands for the box. Ryan pulled it away. Spencer crossed his arms over his chest and made the best bitch face he could. “Fine, I’ll make sure Brendon gives me plenty of orgasms. Are you happy now?”

 

“Wait, you and Brendon?” Ryan said, her eyes widening. “I thought you had a thing for Dallon!”

 

“I still think Dallon’s hot, but Brendon was willing and he’s also hot, and also--” Spencer cut himself off and glared at Ryan. “I don’t have to explain myself, what the hell. I asked you to buy me a strap-on to use with Brendon, what does it matter what our relationship is? We’re two consenting almost adults; we know what we’re doing and what we want.”

 

“You’ve got a crush on him,” Ryan said. 

 

Spencer swatted her in the arm. “Shut up. Don’t tell anyone, okay? I don’t want Brendon to know. It’s embarrassing.”

 

“It’s really not,” Ryan said. “You’re just making it more complicated than it needs to be.”

 

Spencer rolled his eyes. Ryan swatted him in the arm. “You are. Look, you like him, he obviously likes you back, and considering you just had me buy a dildo so you could fuck the guy--and you owe me for that, by the way--I’m assuming that you two get along pretty well when it comes to sexy shit. So you should go for it. Confess your feelings while you’re balls deep in Brendon’s ass.”

 

“How the hell did you get a boyfriend first?” Spencer buried his face in his hands, hiding his blush. 

 

“Well, I actually asked him to be my boyfriend, unlike someone I know,” Ryan said pointedly. Spencer flicked her off while still covering his face. He wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of seeing his embarrassment firsthand. 

 

“Can I please have my dick now?”

 

“Sure, but what am I getting in return for this?” Ryan asked. 

 

Spencer peeked through his fingers to see her looking down at him smugly. He sighed and dropped his hands into his lap. He really did owe Ryan something for this, because she had had to go through Jon without telling him any details about why she needed a strap-on dildo. Apparently you couldn’t buy sex toys unless you were eighteen, and Ryan still had a few more weeks. Spencer needed the dildo as soon as possible, because Brendon kept pestering him about it, and it was starting to get Spencer sexually frustrated, too. Spencer wasn’t even the one trying to get things up his ass. 

 

“I’m waiting,” Ryan said, and wiggled the box. 

 

“The weekend before me and Brendon start school, I’ll get him and Dallon out of the apartment all day,” Spencer said, even though he had no idea how he was going to do this. “You and Jon get the apartment all to yourselves, and you can do whatever you want. For however long you want.”

 

“Deal,” Ryan said, and handed Spencer the package. She got off of Spencer’s bed and ruffled his hair. “Don’t forget to use lube.”

 

“We’ve been using lube,” Spencer said. Ryan paused and glanced over her shoulder, to make sure she’d heard Spencer correctly. She had. Just because Spencer couldn’t fuck Brendon in the ass didn’t mean that the two of them hadn’t tried things in the past few days. There had been lube, and fingers, and Brendon had told Spencer that he was really good with his tongue, which was both the best and weirdest compliment Spencer had received in his life. 

 

“Well,” Ryan said, looking a little lost for words. “Keep up the good work, then.”

 

She left Spencer alone after that. Spencer waited until that night, when everyone was huddled on the couch and watching  _ Friends  _ re-runs. He elbowed Brendon until he got Brendon’s attention, and then cocked his head towards Brendon’s room. Brendon nodded, and slipped away a moment later, not even bothering to give the others an excuse. 

 

When Spencer got up, Ryan shot him a knowing look, and Spencer kept his expression neutral. Just because she knew what was going on didn’t mean that Jon and Dallon got to know, too. There was a difference. Ryan and Spencer had known each other since they were tiny. They knew everything about each other at this point. Dallon and Brendon, even though they were close, only had a year and a half of friendship under their belt. Jon was a completely new entity, even though Spencer liked him so far. He just didn’t know Jon and Dallon as well as he knew Ryan. He didn’t know how they’d feel about him and Brendon going back to Brendon’s room to fuck during a Friends marathon. 

 

Spencer stopped by his room and grabbed what he needed, and then headed to Brendon’s. Brendon had left the door ajar, but Spencer closed and locked it behind himself. He figured Brendon didn’t want them to be interrupted, either. 

 

Brendon was laying on his bed, stretched out and fully clothed, but he sat up when Spencer came in.  _ Like some kind of attentive puppy _ , Spencer thought, and then stopped himself. Because that was just weird, imagining Brendon as a dog. He crossed the small room and dropped the lube and the strap-on package in front of Brendon. “Do you want to prep yourself, or should I?”

 

“I want to eat you out, first,” Brendon whispered, nuzzling his face against Spencer’s binder-clad chest. Spencer ran his hands through Brendon’s hair, pulling his head back so that he could kiss Brendon and lower the two of them onto the bed. Brendon was still a hyperactive kisser, and he still used too much tongue, but Spencer had gotten used to it, and he almost liked it. He’d probably like it more if it wasn’t so wet. They pulled away from each other for a moment, Spencer holding himself up over Brendon and looking down at him. “Why? I thought you'd want to try the strap-on out first, since it's for your benefit.”

 

“Well, yeah, but you have a faster turnaround time for orgasms,” Brendon said. He ran his hands up under Spencer's shirt, pushing the fabric up so that Spencer's torso was exposed. Brendon winked. “And, I want more practice. The last time we tried this, you ended up using your mouth more that I did, and it'd be nice to get a chance to return the favour.”

 

“That's because I actually know how to use my tongue,” Spencer said, rolling his eyes. He sat up so that he was straddling Brendon's lap and his erection was pressed against Spencer's ass, and pulled his shirt over his head. Brendon was watching Spencer attentatively. Spencer pulled Brendon up, kissing him again and grinding against him, and then pulled back to take Brendon's shirt off. Spencer kissed down Brendon’s neck, loving how Brendon gasped whenever Spencer used his teeth. 

 

Brendon fell back on the bed, looking up at Spencer. He pulled Spencer up so that Spencer’s crotch was near his face, and held on to Spencer’s hips. “Let me eat you out. Please?”

 

“Well, since you’re begging for it,” Spencer grinned and sat up over Brendon. He unzipped his pants, peeling Brendon’s fingers away so that he could wiggle out of them. Spencer tossed his pants onto the floor. “You should probably get naked, too, in case you come in your pants again.”

 

“You need to let that go,” Brendon said, sticking his tongue out and thrusting his hips in the air to get his pants and his underwear off, tossing them to the side as well. “It happened  _ one time _ ; I don’t usually do that.”

 

“Yeah, but it was still kind of funny,” Spencer said, and pulled his boxers off so that they were both naked. He straddled Brendon again, this time with his knees up against Brendon’s armpits. Brendon was sweating a little. Spencer didn’t mind at all, and sat down with his ass on Brendon’s stomach. He splayed a hand out across Brendon’s chest. “How do you want to do this?”

 

“Flip over?” Brendon asked, raising an eyebrow. It was almost like he expected Spencer to protest, but Spencer was already grabbing Brendon’s shoulder and flipping them over so that Brendon was bracing himself above Spencer and Spencer was dropping his legs open and pushing Brendon’s face down towards his crotch. Brendon took a deep breath and exhaled right in front of Spencer. It felt good, but when Brendon ducked down and started tonguing and sucking at Spencer’s clit, it felt a lot better. Spencer fisted his hand in Brendon’s hair, pressing into Brendon’s touch as Brendon teased him and made low noises against his skin. 

 

Spencer tipped his head back. “Fuck, Brendon, you’re doing so good.”

 

He could feel Brendon smile into his crotch, and then the licking and sucking resumed. Spencer breathed heavily and directed Brendon’s head, trying not to think about how this would be a lot easier (and probably a lot more enjoyable) if he had a fucking dick instead. Brendon pulled back and Spencer lifted his head to see Brendon staring him down with eyes blown wide with desire and wet lips. Brendon climbed up Spencer’s body and kissed him, desperately tender. Brendon tasted weird, now, probably because he’d had his mouth all over Spencer and didn’t taste like himself anymore. Spencer kissed back, thrusting his hips up against Brendon to rub against his dick. Spencer didn’t flip them over; he was going to let Brendon finish getting him off before he fucked his Brendon. 

 

Brendon sat back, still grinding his hips gently against Spencer. “Don’t think about it too much, baby.”

 

“Don’t call me baby,” Spencer said without any venom in his voice. 

 

“Alright, manly man,” Brendon grinned, and slid back down to finger Spencer. Spencer closed his eyes and just  _ felt _ for a moment. Brendon was better with his mouth than his fingers, but his fingers still felt really good and he was also whining a little. Spencer could only imagine what Brendon's face looked like. He was probably trying not to touch himself, knowing he was only a few strokes from coming if he gave himself the chance. 

 

Spencer pressed down against Brendon's fingers, wrapping his hand around Brendon's wrist. “Use your mouth, I want to come on your face.”

 

“Is it called come?” Brendon asked. 

 

Spencer opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for a moment. This was his life. These were his choices, and he was in bed with a guy who questioned the right terminology for an orgasm instead of getting his partner off. Spencer was in love. “Bren, I really don't care what it's called right now.”

 

“Right, sorry,” Brendon said. The mattress shifted around Spencer's ass, and then Brendon was back, eating Spencer out like Spencer was the only thing he'd had for days. Spencer let out a whining noise, arching up into Brendon's tongue and yanking on his hair. He didn't really pull Brendon back, but he did come on his face. Brendon sat up and licked his mouth, which was probably the hottest thing Spencer had ever seen post orgasm, and so he leaned in and kissed Brendon aggressively, licking into his mouth and flipping them over so that Brendon was on his back and Spencer was on top of him. 

 

Brendon moaned against Spencer’s mouth as Spencer pressed against him. Spencer kissed down Brendon’s neck, biting at his collarbone. “Tell me what you want, Brendon.”

 

“Spencer,” Brendon whined out. 

 

“Tell me you want me to fuck you,” Spencer said, and Brendon gasped under him, holding on tighter to Spencer as Spencer dragged his teeth across Brendon’s neck. Spencer reached back to grab the dildo box, which had almost fallen off the bed. He’d forgotten to open it, which wouldn’t be a problem except Brendon didn’t have anything in his room that could open a box. Spencer swore. 

 

Brendon looked up at him, eyes wide and wanting. “What happened?”

 

“The scissors are in the kitchen,” Spencer said. He set the box down. “Hold on for a moment, and don’t make any noise.”

 

“What are you--”

 

“I’m getting Ryan, hold on,” Spencer said, and got off the bed, heading to the door. He opened it enough that he could stick his head out without exposing himself or Brendon to the rest of the apartment, and then called for Ryan. She turned around on the couch, and grinned mischievously when she saw that it was Spencer. Spencer glared at her when she didn’t move towards Brendon’s room. “Ryan, come on, I need you for a thing.”

 

“One moment, we’re getting to the good part,” Ryan said. Spencer was going to get a new best friend. 

 

“Ryan.”

 

“Dude, this is important,” she said. If Spencer wasn’t naked except for his binder, and if Jon and Dallon weren’t out there as well, he’d probably just storm across the apartment and pick Ryan up. He could do that. She was surprisingly light and easy to move around. 

 

“My thing is more important,” Spencer argued. It was, though. He was just trying to have sex with Brendon, and Ryan knew it, but she was being difficult because she was Spencer’s best friend and they were both kind of assholes to each other when the situation allowed it. Spencer would probably laugh about this later, when his not-boyfriend wasn’t hard and splayed out on the bed, ready to go, but right now he really wanted Ryan to get up and bring him a pair of scissors so he could open the fucking dildo box. 

 

Ryan rolled her eyes and got up off the couch. She walked over to Brendon’s room and leaned against the wall, looking like she was enjoying this way too much. “What’d you need me to do, Spence?”

 

“Can you get me a pair of scissors?” Spencer asked. “I need to open something.”

 

“Can’t you get them yourself?”

 

Spencer stared at her for a good minute before just raising his eyebrows in disappointment. Ryan retrieved the scissors and handed them to Spencer. She ruffled his hair. “Be safe. Don’t cut off his dick.”

 

“I hate you.”

 

“No you don’t,” Ryan said. Spencer nodded. “No, I don’t. But you should probably go back to the sofa now. We might get noisy.”

 

Ryan scrunched up her nose and left Spencer and Brendon alone. Spencer locked the door again and turned around to Brendon. Who had started to finger himself and was already on the second finger. Spencer stopped staring long enough to take the scissors and cut open the box to get the dildo out. It was purple, which was a little weird, but it wasn’t hard to put on and once Spencer got used to it around his hips, he kind of liked it. He leaned over Brendon, using one hand to press the dildo against Brendon’s fingers, which were still in his hole. 

 

Spencer kissed Brendon. “You’re beautiful.”

 

Brendon whined against Spencer’s mouth, taking his fingers out of his ass and pulling on the strap on like it was a real dick. Spencer grabbed the bottle of lube from where Brendon had abandoned it to fuck his own fingers, and slicked up the dildo. He had no idea if he needed to, but better safe than sorry. This was going to be the largest thing Brendon had ever taken up his ass, and Spencer didn’t want to hurt him. 

 

Spencer lined himself up against Brendon’s hole and pressed in. Brendon kept making noises, holding onto Spencer’s shoulders as Spencer thrust into him. Spencer leaned down and started sucking a mark into Brendon’s shoulder, careful to keep it somewhere that wouldn’t be visible when Brendon was clothes. Spencer wanted to mark him up everywhere, but he wasn’t sure how Brendon felt about that, and he didn’t want to make Brendon uncomfortable. 

 

“Spence, fuck, I need--” Brendon’s words choked off into a moan, and he leaned his head back. Spencer reached between them to take Brendon’s dick in his hands, stroking him. Brendon jerked up into Spencer’s hand as Spencer fucked him, and then, without much warning, he cried out and came over Spencer’s hand. Brendon went limp, panting heavily and grinning, and Spencer pulled out, taking off the strap on before laying down beside Brendon. 

 

Brendon turned on his side so that he was facing Spencer, and kissed him. Spencer tried not to touch Brendon with the hand covered in cum, but ended up grabbing Brendon’s ass and pulling him close because he was warm and Spencer missed the feeling of his skin. Brendon wiggled against Spencer, and pulled back from the kiss to look down at him. He looked ridiculously happy. “How was that?”

 

“You tell me, you were the one with a dick up your ass,” Spencer said. Brendon rolled his eyes, and Spencer kissed him again. “It was great, Bren. You did great.”

 

“I’m pretty sure you just gave me the best orgasm of my entire life,” Brendon whispered, like he was afraid of anyone else hearing him say it. Like it was some kind of confession. “You’re amazing, Spencer Smith.”

  
“I try."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In advance, I'm very sorry for this. I warned you guys on tumblr that this was coming.

**August 28, 2004; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Spencer probably should have asked Jon what to do in Chicago before dragging Dallon and Brendon out of the apartment to give Jon and Ryan their day alone. The three of them were driving around in the Brobecks van, searching for something to do. It shouldn’t have been that hard to find entertainment, but Brendon had no attention span and none of them knew how to get around Chicago.

 

“There’s probably an aquarium somewhere on the coast?” Dallon suggested. Spencer shrugged. It was a good idea, except he had no idea where the coast was, or how to get there from where they currently were.

 

“Can’t we just call Jon and ask him for directions?” Brendon said from the backseat.

 

“Do really think Jon would answer right now?” Spencer asked. Surely Brendon knew what was going on at the apartment now that Jon and Ryan were alone for the first time since they’d started dating. Brendon was looking at Spencer like he was still waiting for an explanation, though. Spencer looked to Dallon, who shrugged like he knew that the same guy who Spencer had had sex with just a few days ago was completely clueless as to why a couple who’d been dating for six months would want to have some time alone. Spencer sighed. “Brendon. They’re having sex. We’re exploring Chicago because Ryan wanted some time with her boyfriend.”

 

“Right,” Brendon said. “I don’t know why I didn’t think about that. Wanna go to the aquarium?”

 

“Do you know where it is?” Dallon said, turning onto a different street that would hopefully lead them towards the lakes. Brendon nodded, and then proceeded to direct Dallon. Spencer was constantly astounded by Brendon. He was clueless one minute and knew everything about everything the next. Spencer never knew what to expect from Brendon, which only made him fall for him more.

 

“There’s free parking three blocks down,” Brendon said, pointing between the seats. Dallon found an open spot, and then the three of them headed to the aquarium. Spencer had never really been interested in fish, but the exhibits were pretty cool and Brendon’s enthusiasm for everything was contagious. After a while, Spencer fell back beside Dallon. “How does Brendon know all of this stuff? Is he some kind of secret genius or something?”

 

“I honestly have no idea,” Dallon said. “I think he’s just a jack of all trades. He just picks up on stuff that no one else pays attention to, and remembers everything.”

 

“I thought he was annoying, when I first met him,” Spencer confessed. It felt like the right time to do so, and it wasn’t like Dallon didn’t already know that Brendon came off as annoying sometimes. Dallon had known Brendon for longer. “He’s grown on me, though.”

 

“We’ve noticed,” Dallon said. He arched an eyebrow when Spencer looked up at him with wide eyes. “What, you really thought I hadn’t noticed? You might be good at hiding your feelings, but Brendon isn’t, and it doesn’t take a genius to realise you’ve got a thing for him.”

 

“You had a thing for him first,” Spencer said, which wasn’t the smartest thing to say. Dallon didn’t know that Spencer knew, because Brendon didn’t know that Spencer knew, because Ryan had been the one to tell Spencer that Dallon and Brendon had once been a thing. Spencer didn’t know how it ended, or if it had gone on for very long, but that didn’t matter. Dallon didn’t have any grounds to be jealous, if he was jealous. Spencer and Brendon had whatever they had now, and Dallon and Brendon had apparently decided to just settle for friendship, and nothing else. That was on them.

 

“That was different,” Dallon said. “And it wasn’t healthy, for either of us.”

 

“It seemed pretty healthy,” Spencer said, since he was already digging himself into this hole.

 

“How much did Ryan tell you about us?” Dallon asked. “Because if she only told you the beginning, you wouldn’t understand why Brendon and I aren’t a thing.”

 

“Tell me, then,” Spencer said. “Since I’m his now.”

 

“He lied, Spencer,” Dallon said, but there wasn’t any anger in his voice. Dallon wasn’t upset that Brendon had lied. It was just a thing that had happened, and now it was in their past, and they’d moved past it and figured out a way to not let it ruin their present. “He told me he was eighteen when we met, but he had just turned sixteen. And I know that doesn’t sound like anything too horrible to you right now, but I was almost four years older than him, and I thought there was only two years difference.”

 

“But you’re okay now, right?” Spencer asked. They seemed okay. Spencer really hoped he hadn’t been reading this whole clusterfuck of a situation wrong the entire time. That would be embarrassing.

 

Dallon shrugged. “In a sense.”

 

* * *

 

**May 2, 2003; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

Dallon was two days shy of his twenty-second birthday, and was sneaking out of his parents house for the second time in his life. He told himself that it was for a good reason, because it was (kind of), and that he wasn’t going to make a habit out of it (he might as well make a habit out of it, since it was his only way to get any sense of freedom). He and Brendon were meeting up to go on a date, which would be Dallon’s first real date in his life.

 

He closed the window after himself, and headed to Brendon’s house. Brendon was waiting a few houses away when Dallon got there, and greeted him with a long kiss before grabbing his hand and pulling him towards their destination. All Dallon knew was that it was within walking distance, because Dallon couldn’t sneak the Brobecks van out, and Brendon didn’t have a car because his parents wouldn’t let him have once unless he bought it himself.

 

They ended up at a golf course, alone in the summer night. Brendon had brought a blanket and two cupcakes that he’d bought from the grocery store he worked at, and set them out by the lake they’d chosen to hang out at. Once the blanket was set out, Brendon gently pushed Dallon down onto it and sat in his lap, holding the packaged cupcakes between them. “Happy birthday, Dal.”

 

“You’re sweet,” Dallon said, and pulled his boyfriend in for a kiss. Brendon kissed him back, squirming a little in Dallon’s lap because he couldn’t touch Dallon without dropping the cupcakes. Dallon wrapped his arms around Brendon’s waist and pulled him in, kissing Brendon’s neck. “Thank you for this, by the way. In case I forget to mention it later.”

 

“We should probably eat the cupcakes, then,” Brendon said, looking up at Dallon through his eyelashes. Brendon had nice eyelashes. “I don’t want them to get ruined before we can get to you thanking me later.”

 

“Are you insinuating something?” Dallon asked. Brendon just winked and popped open a cupcake container, offering it to Dallon and apologising for not having any candles. Dallon accepted the cupcake, and he and Brendon ate their cupcakes without moving away from each other. It was a little messy, and there was a lot of giggling and kissing and licking icing off of each other’s noses. It was probably the best birthday present Dallon had received in his life.

 

Brendon boxed up the wrappers and tossed them to the side before closing the distance between himself and Dallon and kissing him again. Dallon kissed back, soaking up Brendon’s energy and holding on to the younger man so that they didn’t topple backwards or into the water. Brendon kept tugging on Dallon’s shirt, trying to get if off, and eventually Dallon had to pull back from his boyfriend to grab his hands. He whispered, half into Brendon’s mouth, “what are you doing?”

 

“I want you to have me,” Brendon said, fully into Dallon’s mouth. “Birthday present, and all that.”

 

“Brendon,” Dallon said, his voice catching in his throat and his heart skipping in his chest. He wasn’t ready. They weren’t ready. Dallon didn’t want Brendon to feel like some cheap sex toy, and he didn’t want Brendon to feel like he had to have sex with Dallon, just because it was (almost) Dallon’s birthday and they were alone on a romantic date by a body of water.

 

“I want to, Dallon,” Brendon said, pulling himself closer. Dallon didn’t stop him. Brendon was hard to deny when he was like this. Brendon kissed Dallon again, and he tasted like sugar and chocolate, like he was too sweet to be real. He shifted his hips against Dallon, so that his crotch was right against Dallon’s and Dallon could feel that Brendon was hard, and that was when Dallon put his hands on Brendon’s shoulders and pushed him back, gently. Brendon pouted.

 

“I’m not ready,” Dallon said.

 

“I thought you said you’d had sex with guys before?” Brendon frowned.

 

Dallon sighed, and dropped his gaze because he couldn’t keep looking at Brendon. Brendon was too pretty in the moonlight. “I did, and I regretted it, because it didn’t mean anything. If I’m going to have sex with someone now, I want it to mean something. I don’t want it to be rushed, or just an impulsive decision.”

 

“Dallon, come on,” Brendon said, moving against him. “We mean something. We’re dating, I’m not just some random guy you met at a bar or whatever. And this isn’t impulsive. We planned tonight.”

 

“You planned tonight,” Dallon countered.

 

“Yeah, but it’s not like you were protesting,” Brendon said. “Look, if it’s because you think I’m a virgin and I’ll be bad at it, I’m not. I mean, I am a virgin, but I’ve looked up some stuff, and I know how it works and I’ve practiced and everything. I’m ready, Dallon. I want this. I want us.”

 

“Brendon,” Dallon said, looking back up at his boyfriend because apparently if Dallon didn’t spell it out, Brendon wasn’t going to understand. “I said I’m not ready. That doesn’t mean convince me. It means I love you, and when we do have sex, I want it to be special.”

 

Brendon’s face fell, and he sat back in Dallon’s lap. “You could have just said you didn’t want to have sex with me, you know.”

 

Dallon pressed a hand to his face. “Look, Brendon, I do want to have sex with you, just not right now. Not tonight, when we’re on a golf course and we still have to sneak out of our parents’ houses to meet each other. It feels too much like Romeo and Juliet, and that play sucked.”

 

“I thought it was romantic,” Brendon said.

 

“They died,” Dallon argued. “How is that romantic?”

 

“Because they died for love, duh,” Brendon rolled his eyes. He leaned forward, and then jerked back, like he was afraid to get too close to Dallon, which was not at all what Dallon wanted. “Wait, can I kiss you?”

 

“Yes, always,” Dallon said, and closed the distance himself. He and Brendon kissed, and it wasn’t perfect, but it was good. It took them a while to stop kissing long enough to pack everything up, but they both knew that they couldn’t get caught sneaking out, and so they eventually got their shit together and headed back to Brendon’s neighbourhood.

 

Brendon stopped at the end of his driveway. The beginnings of the morning sunlight were starting to creep up on them. “You should kiss me goodnight.”

 

“It’s not really night,” Dallon said, and ducked down to kiss his boyfriend. Brendon smiled against Dallon’s mouth, but kept the kiss light. They both knew that Dallon had to get home. Dallon pecked Brendon’s lips once more. “Sleep well. I’ll text you, later today.”

 

“Okay,” Brendon whispered. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”

 

“I know,” Dallon said. He watched Brendon for as long as he could without running into anything, and then finally turned away to head home. He crashed as soon as his head hit the pillow, and he didn’t dream of anything. Any dreams he could be having were already a reality.

 

* * *

 

**May 26, 2003; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

Sometimes Dallon wished that he wasn’t so desperate to get out of his house. There was no other reason for him to be attending a high school choir concert other than Breezy had invited him so she wouldn’t have to sit with her parents, and Dallon was desperate for an excuse to get away from his parents. His mom had let him, weirdly enough, but she’d made him promise to be home by nine. Dallon didn’t mention that the concert would probably be over by eight, because if he didn’t say anything, he might be able to get some time with Brendon.

 

“Wanna sneak out for a minute?” Breezy whispered during a miniature intermission. The next chorus group wasn’t going to have Brendon or Breezy’s sister in it, so there was no reason for them to hang around. Dallon shrugged. Breezy stood up and nudged Dallon until he stood up as well, and the two of them headed out of the auditorium. The walls of the cafeteria were lined with the names of the graduating seniors, but no portraits. According to Breezy, they used to have portraits along with everyone’s name, but people would draw shit on everyone’s face and so the school stopped it the year Breezy graduated.

 

“It was probably for the best,” Breezy said, running her thumb down a line of names. “I definitely would have made sure I offed myself if those fucks got their hands on my face.”

 

“Were you out?” Dallon asked. He was kind of looking for Brendon’s name, but he was also just looking at all the names on the wall and wondering what kind of lives they lived. He wondered if any of them had never experienced the euphoria of driving through the desert at night and kissing a beautiful boy in the backseat of a borrowed Mustang. “I stayed in the closet in high school because I was terrified of anyone finding out.”

 

“I was kind of out,” Breezy said. “I was working through a lot of internalised transphobia, though. I hated people calling me feminine; I thought it was some kind of insult. They’d write shit like pansy and f-g and all that on my locker, and spread rumours that I wore dresses when no one was looking. The dresses thing wasn’t entirely wrong, but I wasn’t ready to admit to myself that I wasn’t a guy. I was still stuck on the idea of hyper-masculinity and all that bullshit.”

 

“How’d you realise you weren’t a guy?” Dallon said. It felt like his heart was in his throat, and he was asking questions that terrified him. He had no reasons to doubt his own gender identity, except that maybe he’d never really belonged with the other guys, but he didn’t belong with the girls, either. He didn’t know where he stood. He wasn’t sure he was ready to find out.

 

“It was a process,” Breezy said. “Gender’s a spectrum, you know, and not everyone falls on the binary. I thought that maybe I was just a guy who liked makeup, and I tried drag, once, but it just felt like an ugly costume, and the other guys at the drag show were…” Breezy sighed, sounding tired, “they were just so nasty. They treated womanhood like a costume. I hated it. I still hate it. Makeup and clothes are gender neutral activities. Being a woman is not.”

 

“Did you ever think that you fell somewhere between being a guy and being a girl?” Dallon asked.

 

Breezy shook her head. “Not really. There are people like that, though, who aren’t a guy or a girl. I feel like that would suck, since the world’s so obsessed with the gender binary and separating men and women from each other.”

 

Dallon paused in front of the list of names. He was in the middle of the V’s and the W’s, and he knew if he looked up a little, Brendon’s name would be there somewhere. Brendon was graduating. Dallon was slowly coming to terms with the idea that he might not be a guy. This was not the time or the place for that kind of revelation. Dallon ignored it, and started looking for Brendon’s name on the list of people. His boyfriend was somewhere. Dallon just had to find him.

 

“You looking for him?” Breezy asked, leaning over Dallon’s shoulder. Dallon nodded. He was in the U’s, looking for Urie, but there wasn’t anyone.

 

Dallon frowned. “I can’t find him. Do you think they just… forgot about him?”

 

“The school isn’t that big,” Breezy said. “As far as I know, they’ve never forgotten to put a graduating senior’s name up on the wall.”

 

“Then why isn’t Brendon here?” Dallon said, more to himself than to Breezy. There was always the horrible possibility that Brendon was lying, but Dallon couldn’t think of a reason for Brendon to lie about graduating from high school. It wasn’t like Dallon was going to look down on him if he didn’t, or if he would have to take another year or semester or something. Dallon didn’t care. He just wanted whatever was best for Brendon.

 

“What if,” Breezy said, and then stopped. Dallon turned around and faced her, and saw that her expression was closed off, unreadable. Her eyes flicked from the wall to Dallon. “What if he’s not a senior? I mean, all we know about the guy is that he goes to high school here and he’s at least fifteen. That’s not a lot.”

 

“He never said he was eighteen,” Dallon realised. “All Brendon said was that he’d just had a birthday, and then you and I--oh my God. I’m dating a child.”

 

“Oh my God,” Breezy said, and she looked just about as horrified as Dallon was feeling. She couldn’t be, though, because she wasn’t the one who had been dating a minor. She wasn’t the one who would be in legal trouble if anyone else found out about Brendon and Dallon. Dallon had to end it. He felt sick to his stomach. Brendon had lied to him.

 

“Dallon, wait,” Breezy reached out and grabbed Dallon’s shoulder as he tried to walk off. “You should at least ask him about it. I mean, maybe the school finally did fuck up and miss someone. Maybe he failed a class or something and even though he’s a senior he’s not graduating with everyone else. Don’t just write Brendon off as a liar because his name wasn’t on a wall.”

 

Dallon squared his shoulders and looked over at the entrance to the auditorium, where Brendon was probably preparing for his solo. He was in there. Dallon felt sick at the thought of seeing him. “I can’t do it now. I’ll ask him about it on Wednesday.”

 

* * *

 

**August 28, 2004; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Dallon trailed off when Brendon came back towards them. Spencer noticed that Dallon was acting like nothing was going on when Brendon wasn’t paying attention. So they all had secrets. So what? It wouldn’t have been the first time someone in high school lied about their age, and Spencer knew how old Brendon was now.

 

He could see why it fucked up things between Brendon and Dallon, though. It wasn’t much of an age gap, sixteen and twenty-one, but it was still different from eighteen and twenty-one. There was legal nonsense that Spencer didn’t care about, but Dallon obviously did, and that was where the difference was. Dallon could have just said that from the very beginning, though, that he and Brendon had had a thing but had ended it because Dallon didn’t want to get in legal trouble for dating a high schooler.

 

“Guys, they have a tank where you can touch the fish,” Brendon grinned, taking Spencer’s hand. “That’s so fucking cool.”

 

“Brendon, don’t say fuck in front of the children,” Dallon said. Brendon rolled his eyes and led them to the open tanks, where a staff member was giving a miniature presentation about each of the animals in the tanks. Spencer leaned up against the tank, one hand on the glass and the other holding onto Brendon’s. He kept looking up at Dallon, though, because now he had an idea as to what happened between the two of them before Spencer and Ryan came into the picture. Was Dallon jealous of Spencer? Or was he glad that Brendon had found someone who wasn’t five years older than him to make out with?

 

“Hey, are you doing okay?” Brendon asked quietly, while holding a sea urchin gently. “You look kind of pissed off.”

 

“I was just thinking,” Spencer said, and trailed his fingers through the shallow water without picking anything up. “It’s nothing.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Yeah,” Spencer said. “You should probably put your friend back, though. I think the staff lady is starting to get pissed at you, and you might be killing her animals.”

 

“Ah, right, shit,” Brendon said, and gently lowered the sea urchin into its tank. He shook his hands, sending droplets of water everywhere, and then wiped his hands on his jeans to dry them before offering a hand to Spencer. Spencer took it, because Dallon already knew, and he didn’t care what anyone else thought about him and Brendon.

 

There was a negative part of Spencer’s brain that said that the only reason he and Brendon weren’t getting weird looks was because Spencer looked like a girl. Spencer squeezed Brendon’s hand and tried to ignore that part of his brain. He was a guy. He was a guy, fuck what anyone else saw. He was a guy. If he kept repeating it to himself, it would start to sound true again, and he’d stop doubting himself.

 

“Did you two want to go by the gift shop?” Dallon asked.

 

Brendon lit up and let go of Spencer’s hand. “Dude, yes. I love tacky shit. Let’s go.”

 

He led the way, again, with Spencer and Dallon a few steps behind him because neither of them were in a rush to get anywhere. Spencer smiled; so maybe Brendon’s enthusiasm was cute, sometimes. Spencer was secure enough to admit that he was a little in love with the guy, not that he’d ever say it out loud. They weren’t even dating, officially. Ryan would probably say that they were, just without the labels, but Ryan wasn’t there.

 

“I’m not going to stop you, because I don’t want you to ever be ashamed of who you are,” Dallon said. “But be careful with PDA and Brendon. He tends to forget that there are people who notice things.”

 

“Why’re you telling me this?” Spencer said. They’d only been holding hands, and it wasn’t like anyone was going to see Spencer as a guy, anyway. Dallon’s point was moot.

 

“Because you’re both guys, and I’ve been there before. I don’t want my friends getting hurt,” Dallon said. It was an obvious attempt at boosting Spencer’s confidence about his passing ability, and Spencer wasn’t buying it. He appreciated the effort, though.

 

He hooked his thumbs in his pockets, and watched Brendon. “How’d you tell him that you knew he was lying about his age?”

 

* * *

 

**May 28, 2003; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

Dallon made sure to sit far away from Brendon in the meeting that Wednesday. Breezy sat beside him, her eyes on Brendon the whole time. Dallon had no idea what Margaret and Martin talked about. He couldn’t pay attention to them. He couldn’t pay attention to much of anything, because Brendon was right over there, and everything so far had been a lie.

 

Dallon had been dating a child. Dallon had thought he was in love with someone he wasn’t. What did that make him? What did that make them? They couldn’t keep going, because Dallon felt sick every time he looked over there, because Brendon was sixteen (sixteen!) and he’d lied about that. Dallon had no idea if there were other things that Brendon had lied about, but he wouldn’t be surprised. Maybe Brendon had gone so far as to lie about the reason he was in here, and maybe Dallon wasn’t the first man to fall for Brendon.

 

At least Breezy didn’t hate him. At least Breezy knew that Dallon wasn’t actually attracted to teenagers, and that Brendon had been a fluke, or a mistake, or whatever. Brendon wasn’t real. Brendon didn’t count. Brendon wasn’t a real sin, because he hadn’t been honest or real going into the relationship, and so really, it wasn’t even Dallon’s fault. Dallon couldn’t have known. Dallon wouldn’t have kissed Brendon--ever--if he had known.

 

Brendon was sixteen. Dallon had barely even thought about his sexuality when he was sixteen.

 

The meeting ended, and Breezy squeezed Dallon’s shoulder before heading to the exit. Dallon knew that she’d be waiting for him outside of the church, in case it all went to shit and he needed an escape. Dallon was hoping he wouldn’t have to go that route. He had no place to go to, other than his parent’s home, and he knew he would never feel welcome there. Dallon stood up from his chair and walked over to where Brendon was standing by the door. Brendon was waiting for him. Brendon had no idea this was coming. Dallon wished he was just as clueless, because he’d realised that there were some things in life that were better left unknown. Brendon, it turned out, was one of those things.

 

Dallon swallowed. “Hey.”

 

“Hey,” Brendon said, his eyes flicking across Dallon’s face. Dallon didn’t say anything else. He motioned for Brendon to follow him out of the room, because Dallon didn’t want an audience, and Martin and Margaret didn’t leave until everyone else was gone. Dallon led Brendon to an empty room in the church, where the lights were bright and florescent, and the chairs were hard, plastic, and an ugly brown-red colour. It felt like a waiting room. It didn’t feel personal.

 

“Is everything okay?” Brendon asked. He was still standing, but there was noticeable space between him and Dallon. Dallon wasn’t sure which one of them had done that.

 

“You lied to me,” Dallon said. His voice didn’t sound like it was coming out of his mouth. The words were his, of course, because he’d rehearsed them over and over again in his head, whenever he was alone and he knew no one would be around to catch him, but it didn’t feel like he was actually saying them. It felt like a voice-over. God had called someone in to vocalise Dallon’s thoughts, but He’d gotten the voice all wrong. “You’re not graduating high school, are you? You’re, what, fifteen? Sixteen? Can you even drive yourself anywhere?”

 

“I’m sixteen, but I can explain--” Brendon started to say, but Dallon shook his head. He didn’t want an explanation. He didn’t want Brendon to try and get himself out of this. Brendon could get himself out of this situation, but Dallon couldn’t.

 

He could have had sex with a minor. What the ever-loving hell.

 

“We can’t--” Dallon said, his words choking him. “We can’t be together. You’re still in high school, and I’m… I’m an adult. I can barely look at you without feeling sick to my stomach, Brendon. I can’t be around you anymore.”

 

Brendon’s face fell. He looked so young in that moment, so young and untarnished even though Dallon knew what he had done. Dallon worried for a moment that Brendon was going to start crying, or that he himself was going to start crying, but neither of them did. Brendon blinked, a lot, like he was holding back tears, and he swallowed. He nodded, not looking at Dallon. “I shouldn’t have lied to you. I just wanted friends, and then I just… I fall in love too easily, I guess, and I didn’t want you to look at me like I was a little kid, because I’m not a little kid. I’m sixteen. I’m… I’m almost an adult.”

 

“But you’re not,” Dallon said, softly. “And I can’t do this to either of us.”

 

Brendon nodded. It really looked like he was about to cry. Dallon shoved his hands into his pockets so he didn’t do anything stupid, like reach out and pull Brendon in to comfort him. That was something that happened when he fell for a person: he couldn’t stop feeling for them, even if he hated himself for it. Dallon didn’t want to be falling in love with Brendon, because the Brendon he thought he knew was a lie, and was really a sixteen year old boy looking for friends, and Dallon couldn’t. He just couldn’t. It was sick, it was wrong, and he hated himself.

 

“I should go,” Brendon choked out, before Dallon could find the words to say it himself. He nodded, mute and not sure what else was left to say. He let Brendon walk out of that room, and then he sat down in one of those ugly, stiff chairs, and buried his hands in his face.

 

He cried. He wiped his face off when he was done, and ducked into the bathroom to make sure he looked fine once he was done, and he didn’t mention it to Breezy when she asked how it went. All he said was, “it’s over.”

 

“I’m sorry,” she said. Dallon knew she meant it. He also knew Breezy meant it when she said, “I wish it hadn’t gone like this, for both of you. He was a good kid.”

 

“He would have been better if he hadn’t lied about that,” Dallon said. “It wasn’t like we were going to shun him if we knew he was sixteen. He was one of us.”

 

“I know,” Breezy said. She sighed. She looked away, like she was leaving something unsaid, but Dallon had learned enough for a week so he didn’t question her about it. Breezy turned back towards Dallon and pulled him in for a hug, holding onto him tightly. Dallon hugged back, pressing his face against her shoulder and doing his best not to start crying again. It was ridiculous. He wanted to be over Brendon already, but he also knew that Brendon had been one of the bend things to happen. Breezy was another, and the Brobecks, before everything fell apart, was a third thing.

 

Dallon was tired of losing the people and things in life that made it worth living. He didn't have a long list of things he desired in life. It shouldn't have been as complicated as it was.

 

“I'll see you next week,” Dallon said to Breezy as the two of them started to let go of each other.

 

Breezy nodded, her eyes on Dallon's feet. “Yeah. Be careful, okay? Until we meet again?”

 

“You too,” Dallon said. They turned and left the church together, Breezy walking over to where she'd parked her car, and Dallon headed over to where his mother was sitting in her car. She was watching him as he approached. He tried to not look as guilty as he felt. Dallon opened the passenger side door and slid in, not looking over at his mother. He wasn't really in the mood to talk.

 

She wasn't either, and so she drove them home in silence. Dallon didn't bother turning on the radio, because he knew that she'd give him a disapproving glare regardless of what music he settled on. His mother was willing to blame anything for Dallon's sexuality, even the music he listened to. It was ridiculous. Dallon had given up on trying to convince her that there was nothing wrong with him, or the things he did with his life.

 

Except Brendon. Brendon had been a mistake, and Dallon hated himself for ruining what could have been a great friendship between the two of them. He'd probably messed up Breezy and Brendon's friendship, too. Brendon was probably going home friendless, and even though Dallon knew that it was mostly Brendon's fault, he still felt responsible for everything. Dallon was an adult. He should have realised that Brendon was lying about his age, and he should have just called off the relationship before it could even start.

 

Dallon didn't talk to either of his parents for the rest of the day. His younger sister was apparently coming home from her first year at BYU, and his parents were trying to figure out who would be driving up there to pick her up. They didn't want to leave Dallon alone because they were still convinced that he would run off and start hooking up with men, but they also didn't want their baby girl coming home alone without anyone to watch over her.

 

Dallon didn't have the heart to tell them that he probably wouldn't be going anywhere until Friday. He didn't have a social life, and he no longer had a reason to sneak out at night. Brendon was history.

 

* * *

 

**August 30, 2004; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

The high school was a lot bigger than Spencer's previous school, but at least he had Brendon. They only had one class together, which was slightly terrifying because it was their second to last class of the day. They also had to ride the bus, which Spencer thought was a little demeaning since they were both seniors and they were supposed to be cooler than the rest of their class.

 

“We could always just drop out,” Spencer suggested as Brendon tried to open his locker and failed yet again. The combination was correct, but the locker itself was jammed shut.

 

Brendon hooked his fingers around the grates and started to pull, bracing himself by placing one foot against the locker under his. “I can’t. I’m probably not going to college, because I don’t think I’m the kind of guy who goes to college, but I’m finishing high school. I made a promise that I would.”

 

“To who?” Spencer asked, because he couldn’t think of anyone who Brendon would listen to about that kind of thing. Spencer knew that Brendon’s relationship with his parents was nonexistent, and had been for a while, so it wasn’t them. And Brendon had never once mentioned any siblings, even though Spencer knew he had some.

 

“Dallon,” Brendon said, and then the locker finally burst open and Brendon stumbled backwards into Spencer. Spencer caught him, somehow, and they didn’t collapse into a pile on the floor and embarrass themselves. Spencer did not want to start off his final year of high school by embarrassing himself in front of a bunch of strangers. If he and Ryan were going to pull of their band, he had to get his shit together, and at least pretend he was cool. For the sake of the band, of course.

 

Spencer let go of Brendon, and Brendon stood back up, running his hands through his hair to fix it. Spencer stared at his not yet a boyfriend. “Dallon? Seriously?”

 

“Yeah,” Brendon said. “He’s like, my best friend. He gave me this whole speech on how I shouldn’t be so focused on running away that I don’t think about where I’m running to, because the destination is just as important as the escape. It was all metaphorical and stuff, but it made a lot of sense. No one’s going to want a high school dropout. I need at least one thing under my belt before I start running off to try and make it on my own.”

 

“You’re not running any more, though,” Spencer said. He was jealous. He didn’t have a reason to be jealous, because he knew--he knew--that Dallon and Brendon were over and that there wasn’t anything there besides some kind of reconciled friendship, but it still felt weird. Dallon was the one convincing Brendon to stick around. Dallon was Brendon’s voice of reason. Spencer hadn’t even figured out how to properly ask Brendon out and make everything official so that they could get onto the part where they were gross and domestic and relying on each other for moral support.

 

“Well, no, because I’m going to be in a band with you guys,” Brendon said. “But, back when Dallon gave me that speech, I didn’t really have a plan for the future. I just didn’t want to be in Las Vegas anymore, because Las Vegas sucked for me. So, Dallon was my support, or whatever. It was a weird time. A lot of stuff was going on, and I wasn’t really thinking straight.”

 

“I know,” Spencer said, because he did. He knew how Brendon and Dallon ended, and if he’d been in Brendon’s situation, he probably would have been really torn up about it too. It wasn’t hard to understand how Brendon had fallen in love with Dallon, because Dallon was just one of those guys who was impossible not to fall for. He was dreamy. Brendon was constantly endearing.

 

“Dallon told you?” Brendon asked, his eyes widening. Spencer nodded. “Yeah, him and Ryan. Sorry about what happened, by the way. It must have sucked for you.”

 

“It sucked for both of us,” Brendon said. He stepped forward, towards Spencer, like he was about to kiss Spencer in the middle of the school, where anyone could see them, but then he stopped. They both knew it was a bad idea. There were things that were best kept private. Whatever the two of them had relationship-wise was one of them. Instead, Brendon grinned at Spencer and squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll see you seventh period!”

 

“Yeah,” Spencer said. “Don’t do anything too stupid.”

 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Brendon winked. He pulled out the strip of paper with his schedule on it, and then, after waving to Spencer like the dork he was, slipped off into the crowd. Spencer watched him go for a moment, and then reached out and closed Brendon’s locker for him, since Brendon had forgotten to do it himself. He pulled out his schedule and headed towards his first class, managing to not get lost on the way. He made it into the classroom with three minutes to spare, and grabbed a seat on the side of the classroom behind a blonde girl.

 

Spencer pulled out his things and sent a text to Ryan so that she’d know he was alone and suffering in high school without her.

 

“Cool binder.”

 

Spencer looked up to see that the girl in front of him had turned around and was pointing at his binder, which he and Ryan had covered with band stickers the night before. It was a routine they had, where they covered each other’s school supplies in band logos and stickers. Ryan had let Spencer cover her college notebooks as well, but it hadn’t been as satisfying. Spencer pulled the binder closer to his chest. “Uh, thanks. My friend and I did it. Last night. It’s a thing we do.”

 

“Oh, cool,” she said. “I’m Linda, by the way. My parents just moved here over the summer, so I don’t know anyone around here yet.”

 

“I’m Spencer,” Spencer said. “I’m from Las Vegas.”

 

“So I’m not the only new kid?” She smiled, like she was letting Spencer in on a secret. “Finally.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“My family moves around a lot, and I’m always the only new kid at school,” she said. She glanced back at the front of the class, but the bell hadn’t rung yet and the teacher was still going over his notes. “So, it’ll be nice to not be the only one introduced at the beginning of every class for once in my life. What’s your schedule look like, by the way?”

 

Spencer pulled his out, and Linda pulled out hers, and the two of them compared notes. They had three classes together, including the one they were currently in, and they also shared a lunch period. Spencer didn’t get to learn anything about her, because the bell rang and the teacher started going over the attendance sheet and calling out everyone’s names. Thankfully, he didn’t call Linda or Spencer up to introduce them in front of everyone, because that would have been awkward. Spencer’s parents had also agreed to enroll Spencer as a male at this high school, since it was public and unaffiliated with any religions. Spencer was addressed and treated like he was any other guy, even though a few people gave him weird looks when they heard his voice.

 

He’d be going on hormones as soon as he turned 18. His parents had promised him that when he came out to them. He’d be fine. He just had to make it through one full year of people looking at him strangely whenever he opened his mouth.

 

The first day passed by slowly, and Spencer was relieved whenever he had a class with Linda or Brendon, and by the time the day was over and Spencer was heading to Brendon's locker to find him again, he was ready to go back to the apartment and never think about school ever again.

 

Brendon was waiting at his locker when Spencer finally got through the crowds to catch up with him. He perked up when he noticed Spencer. “Hey! How’d it go?”

 

“Really boring,” Spencer said. He narrowed his eyes at Brendon, noticing that Brendon had changed clothes and was wearing what looked like a Smoothie Hut uniform. “You changed clothes.”

 

“Yeah, I’ve got work in an hour,” Brendon said. “I got my manager from Vegas to transfer me here so I wouldn’t have to go looking for a brand new job, and I start back today. Which kind of sucks, because school and all, and now I’m going to have to go and meet a bunch of brand new people, but at least I don’t have to figure out how to get my homework done while working.”

 

“Right,” Spencer said. He still hadn’t gotten a job, to help pay for the apartment, but luckily, no one had harassed him about it. Spencer just wasn’t sure where to go to look for a job. Ryan had a thing at the university writing center, Jon worked for the newspaper and also as a guitar tech (which was super cool and Spencer was totally not jealous), and Dallon had… something. Spencer wasn’t quite sure what Dallon did when he left the apartment, but it worked, because he got paid enough.

 

Spencer dropped his gaze to his shoes. “This is going to sound really dumb, but I have no idea where to even start looking for a job. I’ve never done this before.”

 

“Well, do you have any special talents?” Brendon asked. “Because I know one guy who got a job at a music place because he could play like seven different instruments. He didn’t stay there very long, because it was hard for him to get from his apartment to the store, but it was a cool job while he had it.”

 

“Are you talking about yourself?” Spencer asked, because he had a suspicion that Brendon was speaking from personal experience.

 

Brendon nodded, ducking his head as a blush crossed his cheeks. “Uh, yeah. I’ve had a weird assortment of jobs. I had to pay the bills somehow, you know. My parents kicked me out after they found out about me and Dallon.”

 

Spencer’s eyes widened. He had no idea. “They kicked you out? Seriously?”

 

“Well, they didn’t specifically kick me out,” Brendon said. “I kind of ran away for like a week, and then Dallon brought me back, and by that point there was no chance in hell of repairing my relationship with my parents, so Dallon helped me find a cheap apartment so that I wouldn’t have to live with him and his parents, and then I just started working as many jobs as I could without dropping out of school completely.”

 

“Jesus,” Spencer said. “I’m going to fight your parents.”

 

“You don’t have to do that,” Brendon said. He leaned forward again, like he was going to kiss Spencer, and Spencer almost let him. But then he remembered being cornered in an unfamiliar neighbourhood and having slurs thrown at him and Ryan for who they were, and Spencer stepped back from Brendon. Brendon frowned.

 

Spencer swallowed, and ran a hand through his hair. “We should probably go. You’ve got work, and stuff, and I still need to find somewhere to work.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Brendon said. He looked upset, but Spencer really didn’t want to be known as the gay kid in school again. He didn’t know enough about this school to know if he could get away with kissing Brendon in front of everyone. He wanted to, though. God, there was nothing more Spencer wanted in that moment than to be able to kiss his boyfriend in public, just like any straight couple could.

 

Spencer decided he hated straight people. They had no idea how easy their lives were. They didn’t have to worry about anything.

 

He reached out and took Brendon’s hand, squeezing it quickly before anyone else could see. “Although, if you wanted to go make out somewhere before your shift started, I wouldn’t be opposed to that?”

 

“I know where we can go,” Brendon said, and pulled Spencer by the arm towards a staircase at the back of the building. It was entirely empty, with only a set of doors leading to the back parking lot where the teachers all parked. Brendon took Spencer’s hand and pulled him into the little area under the stairs. It was dusty and probably hadn’t been properly cleaned for a while, but that didn’t stop Brendon from kissing Spencer like it was the only thing he wanted to do with his life, and it didn’t stop Spencer from kissing back with just as much enthusiasm.

 

Spencer ran his hands through Brendon’s hair, tugging at the ends the way Brendon liked, and Brendon’s hands gripped Spencer by the waist, holding him close. They were strangely desperate, even though they’d only been apart for less than a day. Spencer’s heart beat loudly in his chest, his body thrumming with the need to get closer to Brendon and never let him go.

 

They had to part eventually, because Brendon had to go to work, and Spencer didn't want to hang around in the school building after school with nothing to do. They parted ways at the front of the school, because Brendon had to catch a bus to go to where he worked, and Spencer was waiting for Dallon to come pick him up. Dallon’s work shift ended at four thirty and he had the minivan.

 

Spencer found a spot on one of the concrete benches outside of the school, and sat down, scanning the line of cars for Dallon’s. When Dallon pulled in, a few minutes later, Spencer saw him immediately because his minivan was the only purple one in the entire area. Spencer moved between parked cars and people walking in groups with seemingly no destination in mind. He threw open the back door of the van and threw his backpack in, and then closed the door before getting into the front seat beside Dallon.

 

Dallon turned on the car radio--he’d found a station that played mostly 80’s songs within the first week of them being there--and Your Love started playing loudly. Dallon turned it down slightly as he navigated out of the parking lot. “Brendon make it onto the bus okay?”

 

“I guess so,” Spencer said as nonchalantly as he could. “I wasn’t paying that much attention to him once we got out of the building, sorry.”

 

“It’s fine,” Dallon waved him off with one hand while turning on his blinker with the other. Apparently people in Chicago high school parking lots didn’t give a fuck about turn signals, though, because Dallon had to honk his way into the space he wanted. “I just worry about him sometimes. He likes to please people, and sometimes he tries too hard to be who he thinks people want him to be.”

 

“Like with you?” Spencer asked. Dallon had already told him, and since Spencer was kind of involved with Brendon, it wasn’t like he was overreaching.

 

Dallon nodded. “Yeah. And with his parents. Even after they kicked him out, he still tried to be the kid they wanted. And, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m worried he’s doing this band thing with you and Ryan because he’s trying to get your attention.”

 

“Brendon has my attention.”

 

“Don’t play dumb, Spencer,” Dallon said, and then pulled in front of someone while muttering a spiteful “fuck you” under his breath. They were finally out of the school parking lot and headed back towards the apartment. “I don’t want to, but I’ll pull out the _I’m older than you and have more experience card_ if I have to.”

 

Spencer nodded. He knew what Dallon meant, entirely. He just didn’t know if he was ready to commit to a genuine relationship, and not just fooling around with a cute guy who probably liked him back.

 

“And don’t play around with his emotions either, okay?” Dallon added a few minutes later, in the silence between two songs. “I know… Brendon and I have a weird and complicated past, but as of right now, he’s my closest friend and I don’t want to see him get hurt again. It’s fine if you aren’t ready for a committed relationship, because you’re young and you shouldn’t have to tie yourself to one person if you don’t want to. If you’re not ready to be Brendon’s boyfriend, or go steady with him or whatever it’s called, then please, make it clear to him.”

 

“I will,” Spencer promised. There was something incredibly comforting about Dallon saying Spencer didn’t have to commit if he wasn’t ready. Spencer just hoped that Brendon would be cool with it, and wouldn’t think that Spencer wasn’t interested in him at all.

 

* * *

 

**September 2, 2004; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Spencer woke up on the morning of his birthday to Brendon in his bed (which was nice, because they’d been messing around the night before) and a message on his phone. Spencer ruffled Brendon’s hair and then pressed the message to hear it, hoping that it was from one of the stores around school that he’d applied to and that he’d finally gotten a job.

 

“Hello, Spencer Smith, this is Jane from First Aid Comics. We’ve looked over your resume, and we’d like you to come in for an interview today at five.”

 

Spencer shook Brendon’s shoulder. “Bren, hey, wake up.”

 

Brendon made some half-awake noises and curled further around Spencer’s pillow, but didn’t open his eyes. Spencer shook his head, and got out of bed without him, climbing over Brendon to go grab clean clothes from his closet and start getting dressed. He was clean enough, having showered the night before before Brendon came into the room and they started watching illegally downloaded Disney movies on Brendon’s laptop while making out. He glanced over to the bed to make sure that Brendon was still asleep before taking off his sports bra and putting on his binder. It didn’t matter that Brendon had literally had his fingers in Spencer’s vagina; Spencer wasn’t comfortable having Brendon see his bare chest.

 

Spencer didn't even let Ryan see his bare chest, and Ryan had known Spencer before Spencer came out as a guy and started hiding his less than masculine appearance.

 

Once Spencer was dressed, he walked back over to Brendon and started poking him until he got up and started moving. Dallon had to drop them off early, because he had an opening shift and needed to get there at ass o’clock in the morning. Theoretically, Spencer and Brendon could ride the bus, but Spencer didn't know what school bus route came closest to the apartment, and he didn’t know if Brendon knew either.

 

They made it school successfully, but because Dallon’s shift started so early, the school wasn’t open yet. Spencer and Brendon stood outside the front doors for a moment, bleary eyed and still half asleep, until Spencer turned to Brendon and said, “wanna walk around and see if there’s anywhere open that sells coffee?”

 

“I thought Ryan banned me from coffee,” Brendon said.

 

“She’s not here,” Spencer said. “So I don’t think it matters.”

 

Brendon grinned and nodded, and then the two of them headed off to go find some coffee. Brendon had a watch, which was good, because even though Spencer knew that they had an hour and a half before the school opened, he was still paranoid that they would end up being late. They found a Starbucks a few blocks away, which was open, and ordered coffees before heading to an empty table by the window. Brendon stuck his legs out under the table, tangling them with Spencer’s, and Spencer let him, because really, he did like Brendon. He was just terrified of actually dating him.

 

Spencer had never _dated_ anyone before, not on official terms. He really, really did not want to end up fucking things up. Especially not with Brendon, who was beautiful and emotional and perfect in the sense that Spencer didn’t want anyone other than Brendon, because there wasn’t anyone other than Brendon who made him feel whole. (Well, Dallon did, but Dallon had made it perfectly clear that that _wasn’t going to happen_ , and Spencer could respect that.) Spencer wanted Brendon, and he didn’t want to get it wrong.

 

Brendon sipped from his coffee and tapped his feet against Spencer’s. Spencer sipped his own coffee. “You know, this is kind of like a date.”

 

“Are we dating?” Brendon asked. Internally, Spencer began screaming.

 

“I… don’t know,” Spencer said. As if his life was just haunted by 80s music, _Video Killed the Radio Star_ was playing quietly in the background as he and Brendon watched each other, each waiting on the other to make the next move. There was no reason for 80s music to be playing, since it was a coffeeshop and early in the morning. Or, maybe that was exactly why the baristas had decided to play 80s music; they thought no one would be awake enough to realise it.

 

“So, theoretically, if I were to ask someone else out, you’d be cool with it?” Brendon said. No, Spencer would not be cool with it, but he wasn’t ready to say so out loud. He couldn’t just blurt out, _hey, I’m in love with you_ to Brendon in a Starbucks at seven in the morning. He just couldn’t. Instead, he shrugged, so he wouldn’t have to outright lie. Brendon perked up. Spencer, internally, perked down. Brendon kept tapping his feet against Spencer’s. “Cool, because I met this girl the other day, and she’s really pretty, and I know homecoming is in, like, a month but I figured I might as well start getting a date now, since I kind of suck at it--”

 

Spencer tuned Brendon out, and just pretended that he was supportive. He really didn’t want to hear Brendon talking about the cute girl in his second period class who wore skirts with skeletons on them and had purple extensions. Brendon had shitty taste in girls.

 

“--and we don’t have to, like, stop hanging out, either, because she knows I’m bisexual and I don’t think she’d mind,” Brendon said. He sounded way too excited. Spencer needed to shut him down before he started creating a future. He remembered what Dallon said, about not getting Brendon’s hopes up. Brendon’s hopes were already up, because that was just who Brendon was as a person, apparently.

 

Spencer took a long sip from his coffee to cover up how he was feeling, which was really shitty. He swallowed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

 

Brendon’s eyes widened. “What? Why not? Polyamory’s cool and all, and I don’t want to stop being with you. You’re a cool guy, Spence.”

 

“I think…” Spencer said, and sipped from his coffee again because apparently he was really bad at this kind of thing. “I think you and I should stop doing what we’re doing. I think we had different ideas of what this was, and I don’t think it’ll work if you’ve also got a girlfriend. I don’t want to be your side boyfriend who you go to for whatever you don’t think you can get from her. And I don’t want this to turn into some kind of popularity competition between the two of us, because we shouldn’t have to compete for you, and I don’t… I don’t want to end up being her rival. Or some hot gay couple that she can get off to when no one’s watching.”

 

Brendon’s face fell, and he looked really upset. Spencer was pretty sure he saw his chin quiver, but he wasn’t going back on his word. He swallowed. “We don’t have to stop being friends, though. We can still have that.”

 

“I’m going to go back to the school,” Brendon said, grabbing his things. He left his coffee behind. “I’ll see you later. I guess.”

 

* * *

 

Spencer walked out of the back office of First Aid Comics with a name badge and a polo shirt. Apparently, that was all he needed for a uniform. He was starting tomorrow, and he’d be working with someone else who was new, because the store had just lost two employees and needed the new ones to start as soon as possible.

 

Luckily for both parties involved, Spencer wanted to start working as soon as possible, so he could actually help out with paying for the apartment. He didn’t want to be a drain on Ryan and Jon, especially since Ryan had been the one to allow Spencer to come live with her when she didn’t have to.

 

“Spencer?” A girl’s voice said over the music playing in the store. Spencer looked around until he spotted Linda standing on a ladder, holding a handful of comics in her arms. Her hair was up in a ponytail, and she was wearing glasses again. She looked as surprised to see Spencer as he was to see her. She put the comics she had in her arms up and leaned against the ladder. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I’m going to start working here,” Spencer said. “Tomorrow, actually, after school lets out.”

 

Linda grinned. “Oh, sweet, I work here too! Does that mean you’re replacing Ben? He’s the register guy, and he kind of gives me the creeps.”

 

“Probably,” Spencer said. “Apparently they really need new people, because I’ve never had a job before. I’m doing this to help my friend pay for rent.”

 

Luckily, Linda didn’t ask why a high schooler was worried about paying rent. Spencer didn’t know if there was a short and easy way to explain everything that had happened last summer to get him from Summerlin to where he was now. There was too much going on, really. It was nice that Linda just accepted it and immediately started giving Spencer a run-through of some of the people who worked here while finishing what she was working on.

 

“You’re pretty cool,” he said, later, when they’d moved to another section and Linda had gotten Spencer a box to sit on so he could work on homework. “Not because you’re a girl working in a comic book store or whatever. You’re just… I don’t know. Not super judgemental.”

 

“I’m originally from Texas, and my parents are _super_ Christian,” she said. “I’ve lived through enough judgement to last a lifetime. I don’t think there’s anything you could tell me that would make me think you were gross, unless you went around assaulting people or something. You don’t do that, right?”

 

Spencer shook his head. “Nope.”

 

“Then we’re cool.,” Linda said. She extended her hand, and she and Spencer shook at it.

 

* * *

 

**September 3, 2004; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Spencer got off of his first ever shift of work at nine, and got home about a half hour later. He and Dallon were the only ones in the apartment, and so Dallon heated up some Ramen noodles and eggs for Spencer while Spencer spilled all of his homework out on their kitchen table. He had a lot. He kind of wanted to sleep for three years and not do it, but he knew that his mom would be pissed if he didn’t try, and so he opened his history book and started taking notes.

 

“You know you don’t need to read everything, right?” Dallon said. Spencer looked up to see him leaning against the counter. His face was turned towards the stovetop, hair covering most of his face, but Spencer could still see the bags under his eyes. They were all tired. They hadn’t even started on the whole band thing yet.

 

Spencer tapped the eraser end of his pencil against the textbook. “What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, most of the stuff in textbooks is filler,” Dallon said. “You can just skim it looking for numbers and proper nouns and get a lot more done in less time. That’s what I did, and it worked pretty well.”

 

“Thanks,” Spencer said, and started skimming. It was still boring and a pain in the ass, but Dallon was quiet and just sat across from Spencer, eating his own egg and ramen, scribbling things down in a notebook. Spencer wanted to ask what Dallon was writing--or scratching out, because he was doing a lot of that, too--but he had other things to focus on.

 

Ryan came home next, tired and looking pissed off. She worked at the university’s writing center, and apparently a lot of kids in college couldn’t write for shit. She started up a pot of coffee and nibbled a slice of bread while she waited. “Jon’s going to be out until, like three, so don’t stay up waiting for him.”

 

“Can you text him and ask him to make me breakfast?” Dallon asked. Spencer could tell he was only joking, even though he had his head down and couldn’t see Ryan or Dallon’s facial expressions.

 

“You’ve got his number, text him yourself,” she said. Spencer heard the chair beside Dallon getting pulled out, and then Ryan was sitting down and pulling Dallon’s notebook towards herself. Spencer looked up then, because his curiousity had gotten the better of him, and realised that the notebook wasn’t Dallon’s. It was one of Ryan’s. She flipped a few pages back and forth, nodding a little. “Okay, so maybe you do know what you’re doing when it comes to songwriting.”

 

“Your lyrics were good on their own, just… hard to actually sing,” Dallon said. “Brendon’s got a good voice, but I don’t think it’s that good.”

 

“You’re writing songs?” Spencer asked. He knew, on some level, that Ryan was always writing songs. If the lyrics weren’t going up on LiveJournal, they were going in one of her many notebooks, because Ryan was a never-ending tower of ideas. The only reason she and Spencer hadn’t gotten around to making an actual album was because their lives were just shitty and didn’t allow for enough time to get everything together to make an album.

 

Ryan nodded. “Yeah. I mean, we can’t really do anything until you get a kit and Dallon gets a bass, but I can’t really stop it, you know? Also, Jon works with a lot of music guys, so he can probably get us gear if we really need it.”

 

“Sweet,” Spencer grinned. He reached out towards the notebook. “Can I see?”

 

Ryan pulled her hand back. “You’ve got homework. Fuck off.”

 

“I can do it later,” Spencer said, wiggling his fingers. “Come on, please?”

 

“No.”

 

“You suck,” Spencer said. He didn’t mean it, and Ryan knew he didn’t mean it, so she laughed and Spencer went back to his history notes. Which were still boring. He managed to get through them, though, and Ryan and Dallon busied themselves with whatever they had to get done, and Dallon put on music in the background so that the apartment wouldn’t feel so empty.

 

And then Brendon came home. He was bouncy and energetic, and there was this huge grin on his face that Spencer knew wasn’t from working. Smoothie huts weren’t that interesting. Spencer wished that he and Brendon were still an unofficial thing, just so that he could stop feeling a deep pang in his chest every time he saw Brendon. It wasn’t fair; they hadn’t even had a chance to be something real and Spencer was already feeling heartbroken.

 

“Guess who has a girlfriend?” Brendon grinned. Spencer did not miss how Ryan’s eyes cut over to him before she said, slowly, “Other than Jon?”

 

“Me!” Brendon pointed to himself. At this point, Spencer had been crushed so much that he just didn’t care, or feel anything. He nodded, letting Brendon know that he’d heard the announcement, but he wasn’t about to offer congratulations or anything. He wasn’t at that point yet. He might get there, eventually, but for now, he was just bitter that he’d been too scared to try and had ended up fucking it all up.

 

Hopefully, Brendon would be happy with this girl.

 

“Wait, seriously?” Dallon said. He was also looking at Spencer, like he was expecting this to all be a joke, and that Brendon and Spencer were the ones who were really dating. They weren’t. Brendon had a real girlfriend. Spencer Smith regretted every decision he’d made in his life.

 

“Yeah! Her name’s Kayla, and she works at Hot Topic, and she told me that if I ever wanted to work there with her, all I had to do was ask and she could get me in,” Brendon nodded. He looked around the kitchen, like he was just realising that he was the only one in the room who was excited. He rubbed at his arm. “Um, you guys all look like I told you someone died. What’s going on?”

 

“It’s not that,” Dallon started.

 

“No, we’re all just surprised,” Ryan said. Her voice was creepily flat. Spencer knew he was going to have to talk to her about this whole situation eventually. He just hoped he could hold off on it for as long as possible, because he really didn’t want to have to explain that he’d fallen for someone and then immediately let them go. That was just embarrassingly depressing.

 

* * *

 

**September 6, 2004; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Ryan showed up at the comic book shop while Spencer was in the back, going through the boxes they’d gotten that weekend and sorting them out. He and Linda had both decided that she’d take the front counter that day, since Spencer was still in a slump over the whole Brendon situation. Linda didn’t know the details, because Spencer wasn’t ready to come out to her yet, but she knew that Spencer was dealing with an awkward breakup.

 

“Dude, are you seriously wallowing in misery while you’re going through comic books?” Ryan said. Spencer looked up to see her leaning against the doorway of the back room. She wasn’t supposed to be there.

 

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Spencer said, setting the stack of comics down. “How’d you get back here?”

 

“Your friend trusts me,” Ryan said, pointing over her shoulder to the front of the store. She came in, closing the door behind her, and perched herself on top of a box of overstock comics. Ryan stretched her legs out into the middle of the room, and watched Spencer work for a moment. Spencer was really glad that the managers here were casual, because he was pretty sure that it was frowned upon for someone to have their friends just hanging around in the store. Ryan poked Spencer with her foot. “I know this isn’t the best place to talk, but I wanted us to be somewhere where the other guys wouldn’t overhear. So, what happened with you and Brendon? I thought you were going to ask him out.”

 

“Didn’t work out that way,” Spencer said. He sighed, and set down the pile of comics he’d collected. “Ry, I love you like a sister, and you’re my best friend in the entire world, but I really, really do not want to talk about Brendon and his girlfriend. Like, ever. If you’re going to hang out here, can we talk about something else, please?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Ryan said. Spencer was just glad she was willing to drop the subject. Sometimes she wouldn’t, but it was fair, because sometimes Spencer made Ryan talk about things she didn’t want to talk about either. They pushed each other, but they both knew when to stop. She poked him again with her foot. “What do you want to talk about?”

 

“What happened with Breezy?” Spencer asked, turning around to face Ryan. “No one’s ever told me, and it just seems weird that she didn’t come with Dallon and Brendon after everything they went through. I thought she might have left without them, but, like, Dallon talks about her like they’re still friends, and I doubt he’d do that if she’d just abandoned them. Dallon’s forgiving, but, like, not that forgiving,” Ryan was starting to look uncomfortable. Spencer furrowed his eyebrows, “right?”

 

Ryan swallowed and ran her tongue over her lower lip. “Spence. I really don’t think that’s what you want to know… right now.”

 

“Ryan,” Spencer said, and his voice came out a lot more shaky than he expected. He coughed to cover it up. “Just tell me, okay? I’m tired of being the only one who doesn’t know shit.”

 

Ryan took a deep breath. “She killed herself, Spencer. Her parents found her in her room the Sunday after Dallon and Brendon broke up and Brendon ran away. She had a note and everything, and she’d had it planned for a while, apparently.”

 

Spencer’s throat felt really tight. “Oh. I… I did not see that coming.”

  
“I don’t think anyone did,” Ryan said, very quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, please comment/leave a kudo if you want? Or if you want to come fight me?


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically 7000 words of Dallon grieving and being angsty. Originally, I was going to have some non-flashback scenes in this chapter, but Dallon the Angst Man got away from me and so I'm putting the Chicago/2004 sections in the next chapter.

**June 4, 2003; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

Brendon wasn’t there. Dallon had poked his head in to make sure. He wasn’t there. Dallon didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. He still couldn’t make himself go inside, because over the past week, he’d convinced himself that they all knew what he did, and what that had to make him. 

 

It didn’t matter that he’d ended it as soon as he found out that Brendon was underage. Dallon was still disgusted with himself, and it seemed like Breezy was, too, because she’d stopped texting him after Thursday, when she called him and left a voicemail saying she wouldn’t be able to make it to their lunch on Friday. Dallon could tell when he’d fucked up, and he understood why Breezy didn’t want to be around him. Dallon didn’t want to be around himself then either. 

 

He heard a pair of footsteps approaching, and turned towards them to make sure it wasn’t anyone who he cared about. They were a middle aged couple who Dallon didn’t recognise. The woman was teary-eyed and gripping a dirty piece of paper. The man looked angry. Just angry, nothing else. Dallon furrowed his eyebrows; he was curious, but not curious enough to actually ask. 

 

It turned out that he didn’t have to. The man rushed him first, shoving him back against the wall. “You disgusting heathen! Our son was doing better until he met you, and now look what you’ve done! You filthy, filthy queer, I hope you rot in hell for what you’ve done to him!”

 

Dallon wasn’t even afraid. The only thought that went through his head was,  _ ah, so these must be Brendon’s parents. No wonder that kid was a wreck all the time _ . 

 

The man let go of Dallon, holding his fists close to his sides. He was trying not to hit Dallon. Dallon wouldn’t blame Brendon’s father if he punched him. Really, Dallon thought he deserved it. He had essentially taken Brendon’s innocence, even though the two of them had never had sex. The intentions had been there, and really, that was what mattered. 

 

The woman, Brendon’s mother, stepped forward. Her lower lip quivered as she held up the crumpled piece of paper and waved it in Dallon’s face. “You killed him, you monster. Our baby boy is sick and dead because of you,” she shoved the paper at Dallon’s chest, her jaw tightening, “go to hell!”

 

And with that, they left. Dallon was just as alone as he had been before, except now he had another layer of guilt in his mind. Brendon was dead. Dallon didn’t know if he’d killed himself or if he’d run away from home and been killed on the road, but it didn’t matter. Dallon had been the reason behind it. Dallon was the catalyst. He shoved the paper into his pocket--he didn’t know what was on it but he was pretty sure he never wanted to know--and moved into the room. He walked right up to where Martin and Margaret were setting everything up, but he wasn’t really paying attention to himself. He was just there. 

 

“Mr. Weekes, how can I help you today?” Martin asked, looking way too cheerful. Did he not know that Brendon was dead? Or worse, was he glad that Brendon was dead, because he saw Brendon as a lost cause and believed that God would deal with him? 

 

“I have a confession to make,” he said. He wasn’t sure why he was confessing to anything. Brendon was dead, it wasn’t like it really mattered. He just thought that maybe, if he was honest about who he was and what he did with Brendon--what he almost did--then maybe he could get closure on all of this. “I’ve… I’ve sinned, and I feel horrible about it, and I need to come clean and I don’t know if I can be forgiven for what I’ve done, but--”

 

Margaret put her hand on Dallon’s shoulder. At least she looked like Brendon’s death meant something. “Mr. Weekes. I’m so glad that you’ve finally seen the light and want to receive God’s forgiveness, and you will, soon. But, we have an announcement to make first, before we start the meeting. If you would go sit down now, we can start our meeting and you can ask God for His forgiveness.”

 

Dallon nodded, numbly, and found himself a seat. Breezy wasn’t there. Dallon wondered if she was late, or if somehow she’d managed to convince her parents to let her stop coming. 

 

He felt the paper in his pocket pressing against his leg as Margaret stood up and braced herself against the podium. She let out a deep, sad sigh as she looked over the semicircle of people in front of her. Dallon pulled out the paper in his pocket, because it was getting annoying, and it felt like a constant reminder that Brendon was dead and it was because of Dallon’s actions. 

 

“Good afternoon, everyone,” Margaret started. Dallon straightened out the folds in the paper, not looking at the words. He didn’t want to see the words. He didn’t want to know that Brendon blamed him for everything, or worse, that Brendon still loved him, even after everything that had happened. Dallon didn’t want Brendon to die still loving Dallon. Brendon deserved better. 

 

“Today, I have a sad announcement,” Margaret said, slowly. It was like she was talking to small children, about to tell them that their pet rabbit had died and wouldn’t be coming back. “Last Sunday, one of your peers died. It was very sudden and unexpected, and for the sake of his parents, I will not go into details as to how he passed. Today, we will be starting the meeting by having a moment of silence for Mr. Joseph Douglas. For those interested, his funeral will be held here, on Saturday at three.”

 

That wasn’t Brendon’s name. That’s was Breezy’s deadname. That wasn’t right; Breezy wasn’t dead. Dallon’s head shot up from where he’d been staring blankly at the paper without actually reading it. “She’s not dead.”

 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Weekes, but  _ he is _ ,” Margaret said, putting unnecessary stress on the “he.” Breezy was dead, apparently. There was no reason to keep calling her the wrong name. She wasn’t there to feel like shit for it, so all Margaret was doing was pouring salt into the wound. Dallon didn’t know whose wound it was. Maybe Breezy’s ghost. She seemed the type to stick around and haunt anyone who was a dick to her after death. Dallon hated that she was dead, and that the best she could do now was haunt Margaret and Martin and make their lives suck. 

 

“No she’s not,” Dallon said. He almost ripped the paper in half. The paper wasn’t Brendon’s, then, if those weren’t his parents. “She’s not, you bitch, she would have said something.”

 

“Watch your language!” Martin said, but Dallon didn’t care. Dallon cared so much, but not about them. He wasn’t telling them anything, fuck that. They didn’t deserve to know the truth. They’d probably just twist it around as proof that all gays were predators and Dallon had gone out of his way to get Brendon to fall for him. It wasn’t like that at all. It was all just a mistake, really, but it was Dallon’s mistake and he hated himself for making it. 

 

He stood up, his chair clattering behind him. “Have a nice day.”

 

Dallon left the room. He made it to the bathroom before he broke down. He wasn’t actually crying, but his breathing was ragged and loud and he was shaking so much that he had to sit down on the floor of the bathroom and hold his legs to his chest. 

 

_ Breezy was dead. Breezy was dead. Breezy was dead. Breezy was dead. Breezy was dead. Breezy was dead. Breezy was dead. _ It didn’t matter how many times Dallon thought it, it still didn’t feel real. If she was dead, she would have had to have done it herself, because Breezy wouldn’t give anyone else the satisfaction of killing her. Dallon had been so sure that she was alive out of spite, and that she was getting out of here and going to California out of spite. Because someone said she couldn’t do it, and she had to prove those fuckers wrong. 

 

She wasn’t dead, because she would have told Dallon. Or maybe she was dead, because she knew that Dallon would have tried to stop her, and she wanted to save them both the trauma of things not going their way. 

 

There was still a piece of paper in Dallon’s hands. He was pretty sure he knew what it was--a suicide note, probably with his name on there somewhere--but he didn’t want to read it. He didn’t want to trash it, either. It was all he had left of her, because anything else would hurt too much. He couldn’t go to Hedary’s ever again, because he’d only remember Breezy being alive and fine and how they could talk for hours about anything and not worry about people getting mad at them. The desert was off limits, for so many reasons. Dallon couldn’t even see himself in California, now, because he’d be looking for Breezy’s name on a billboard, knowing what she could have been if things hadn’t gone to shit. 

 

Dallon pulled out his phone. Brendon had tried to call him a few times since they ended things, but Dallon had ignored him. He’d deleted Brendon’s number, but not any of the missed calls. Brendon never left a voicemail. Dallon was pretty sure it was because Brendon knew, on some level, that Dallon wouldn’t bother listening to the voicemail if it was there. 

 

Dallon’s breathing had calmed down enough that he was able to say, “hey, Bren,” when Brendon answered the call with an anxious, “Dallon? Is that you?”

 

There was a moment of silence, and Dallon struggled to remember to breathe, because it almost seemed futile, but he swallowed and said, “Yeah, it’s me. I, um, something’s happened, and I just… where are you and are you okay?”

 

“I’m in New Mexico,” Brendon said slowly. Dallon wasn’t expecting that. What the hell was Brendon doing in New Mexico? How did he even get there, since he didn’t have a car or even a license? “It’s some little town called Santa Rosa, and it’s really pretty. Where are… where are you?”

 

It was so awkward, talking to Brendon again. But he was the only person Dallon knew who cared enough about Breezy to get the news of her death. Dallon swallowed back a raw sob that threatened to come out. He’d had his moment. He needed to get his shit together, and tell Brendon what had happened. Dallon ran a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face. “I’m still here. Bren, I don’t… Breezy’s dead, and everything’s falling apart, and I can’t go to the funeral alone. I’m sorry.”

 

“What do you mean she’s dead?” Brendon sounded as disbelieving as Dallon had been. “She was fine when I saw her a week ago. What happened?”

 

“She killed herself. I think,” Dallon said. He looked down at the paper in his hand. Now that he knew the context in which it had been written, he was pretty sure that there was dried blood on the corner. Breezy’s blood. Dallon was going to be sick, except he didn’t have enough energy to actually throw up. He just felt like something worse than death. He unfolded the paper, and flipped it over so that her handwriting was visible. It was shaky. Dallon still couldn’t read it. “I have the letter she wrote, but I can’t read it. I’m sitting in the bathroom at that fucking church, and I think I’m losing my mind.”

 

“When’s the funeral?” Brendon’s voice was quiet. Dallon wondered if he was scaring him. 

 

“Saturday,” Dallon said. “Can you get back by then? I don’t think I can do this alone.”

 

“I… I don’t have a ride,” Brendon confessed. “I’ve been hitchhiking. I don’t know where I was trying to go, but I don’t know if I can get back…”

 

“I’ll come get you,” Dallon said. 

 

“How? I thought your parents had you on house arrest?” Brendon asked. He had a good point. Dallon just didn’t care about consequences anymore. “How are you even going to get your car… unless you’re planning to sneak out?”

 

“It can’t be that far of a drive,” Dallon said. “I’ll do it at night, and be out of the garage before they can even get down the stairs to try to stop me. I’ll see you tomorrow, Brendon. Please don’t go anywhere.”

 

“I won’t,” He said. It sounded like a promise. 

 

* * *

 

**June 5, 2003; Santa Rosa, New Mexico.**

 

The drive from Dallon’s parents’ house in Summerlin to the motel Brendon was living in in Santa Rosa was ten hours according to Mapquest. Dallon left at one in the morning, and got there a little after ten. He didn’t see his speedometre get below 90 once he hit the highway. There was no one else there for him to run into or get stuck behind. It was just Dallon, the Brobecks van, and an empty highway in the desert leading straight to Brendon. 

 

Dallon was exhausted, but he didn’t realise it until he was standing outside room number 8, knocking on the door and waiting for Brendon to open it. Dallon had a backpack and an empty bottle of Gatorade. The Brobecks van was parked right behind him. He could still hear his father yelling at him to turn the car around and get back inside. He could still hear himself telling his father that he didn’t control what Dallon did. 

 

Brendon opened the door. He looked slightly terrified, but his face shifted into a relieved half smile when he saw Dallon. He pulled Dallon in for a hug, and Dallon let it happen because he was too drained--physically and emotionally--to protest. He felt like he was melting against Brendon. Brendon squeezed Dallon tightly. “You’re okay.”

 

_ I’m not _ , Dallon thought, but he just buried his face in Brendon’s hair and closed his eyes. He needed to sleep. He also needed to get Brendon back to Summerlin. They couldn’t stay in Santa Rosa forever. Dallon couldn’t just abandon Breezy to the will of her shitty parents, who couldn’t even recognise their own daughter in death. 

 

“You want to lie down?” Brendon whispered to Dallon’s chest. Dallon nodded. Brendon led them into the motel room, closing the door behind them and drawing the blinds. There was only one bed, but Dallon didn’t care. He just dropped his backpack, the empty bottle, and his car keys to the floor and fell down face first onto the bed. 

 

“Shoes,” Brendon said from somewhere behind him. 

 

Dallon sighed and kicked his shoes off. He closed his eyes, and within seconds, he was asleep. He didn’t dream of anything, which was nice, because there wasn’t anything on his mind worth dreaming about. Dallon woke up under the covers, with the desk lamp on and Brendon sitting at the desk, watching him. Dallon blinked a few times, reorienting himself because he couldn’t quite remember where he was or what had happened to bring him here. 

 

“It’s, like, five thirty, but I was hungry so I ordered us take out,” Brendon said. “I’ll pay for it, though, so you don’t have to worry about it or anything. Um, I hope you like orange chicken? It was the cheapest and I got us each an order.”

 

“We’re not keeping the room for the night, right?” Dallon asked. “Because I don’t want to stay here for too long.”

 

He was afraid that, if he stayed, he would never return. Brendon would convince him not to go back, because really, now that Breezy was gone and Brendon was living here, apparently, there was nothing left for him back in Las Vegas. And Dallon wouldn’t be able to argue with that. He had nothing to his name. He had a van for a band that no longer existed, no college degree, and not a lot of money. It didn’t matter if he stayed here in some tiny town in New Mexico or if he went back to Las Vegas. His fate would be the same, and he’d still resent himself. 

 

If he went back to Vegas, though, this wouldn’t feel like he and Brendon were running away together, and he would get the chance for some closure with Breezy. 

 

“I don’t have the room after eight,” Brendon said. He took a deep breath. “Also, please don’t be mad at me, but I may or may not have gone through your bag while you were asleep and I may or may not have found Breezy’s note and read it… and I know… I know you’re really torn up about what happened, and I am too, and it fucking sucks, but if you haven’t read it, you really should. It’s, um, it’s kind of directed at you.”

 

Dallon sat up, slowly, messing with his hair so that it wouldn’t look so ridiculous. He leaned out of the bed, stretching his arm out towards Brendon so that Brendon could hand over the paper. Brendon pulled it out of Dallon’s backpack and handed it over. It was still crumpled and the corner still had dried blood on it. Nothing had changed. He turned it over in his hands, spreading it out on the covers. 

 

_ If you're reading this, I'm dead. I've slit my wrists and said my “fuck yous” to my parents, but I can't just leave without saying goodbye. That would be a dick move, and well, according to all the healthy people out there, suicide is already a dick move.  _

 

_ So, Dallon, hopefully you'll get this. Thank you for the past few months, making them as bearable as they could be considering how shitty my home life has been. Sorry we couldn't make it to California, but hopefully you'll find your own way there.  _

 

_ Sis: sorry mom and dad made you treat me like a guy. Thanks, though, for protesting with your wallet and getting me a bunch of cool clothes. If there's a heaven, you're getting in (and if God says otherwise I'll come up there and fight him myself). You're the only reason I never ran away.  _

 

_ Dallon: since I couldn't say this while I was alive, I'll say it now. You don't have to be what they want you to be. Be a guy, a girl, neither, both, whatever. Just be you, be queer, and be safe. Go places I couldn't, and tell Brendon, if you ever see him again, that he had nothing to do with this. You didn't either. I had this planned for a while, I'm sorry you came in at the wrong time.  _

 

 _Dallon, you made me feel like I was a real woman. You're fucking badass, and I know that if those assholes at BYU had never figured out your sexuality, you and the Brobecks would have_ _kicked_ _ass_ _!! (Actually, I still think you can kick ass; you've got some nerve, dude)._

 

_ Dallon, sis, Brendon (if you read this): I'm sorry.  _

 

_ Mom, Dad: fuck you. I'm not your son. I sure as hell hope you don't try to claim me as such now that I can't correct you.  _

 

Dallon was crying, silently this time, but enough that he couldn't see the page anymore. He'd finished the note, though. He wiped his face and folded it up again, letting it drop to the floor. Dallon needed a moment. He didn't know what he was going to use that moment for, because he didn't know what he was feeling, but he knew he needed a moment. 

 

He heard Brendon lean over and pick the note up from the floor. Dallon was glad Brendon did that, because Dallon didn't want to lose Breezy’s note, but he also didn't want to have it on his person. He trusted Brendon with the note. Brendon, despite all that had happened between the two of them, was the only person Dallon had left who he could trust. 

 

It was kind of a shitty situation. 

 

“Can I… am I allowed to hug you?” Brendon asked. His voice was soft, cautious, like he expected Dallon to lash out at him. Dallon didn't see him lashing out at anyone. He was too numb. Reading the note had reminded him that this was all horribly real. Breezy was dead, Dallon had run away from home to find his underage ex boyfriend and bring him to the funeral, and they were in a motel in a city that didn't even matter. 

 

“Yes,” Dallon said, his own voice surprising him. “You can hug me.”

 

Brendon didn't wait another second before joining Dallon on the bed. He wrapped his arms around Dallon, and buried his face into the older man’s shoulder. Brendon's face felt wet against the fabric of Dallon’s t-shirt. So Dallon wasn't the only one crying, then. Dallon shifted around so that he could hug Brendon back, because they both needed it, and Dallon wasn’t so selfish and caught up in his own angst that he couldn’t care about Brendon’s. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Brendon whispered into Dallon’s shoulder. 

 

“Don’t be,” Dallon whispered back, rubbing Brendon’s back. “This isn’t your fault.”

 

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” Brendon said. “And that I ran away, and that everything’s just fucked.”

 

“It’s not your fault,” Dallon said again. He felt like Brendon needed to hear it. Brendon needed to know that Dallon didn’t blame him for any of this. Brendon hadn’t killed Breezy, or driven her to killing herself. It wasn’t his fault. All of this happening at once was just a coincidence. Sometimes shit hit the fan sporadically. Other times, all the shit hit at once, and you were sitting right in front of the fan when it happened. 

 

“It’s not yours, either,” Brendon said. He raised his head to look Dallon in the eye. His eyes were bright and wet with tears. Without thinking, Dallon wiped Brendon’s tear-stained cheeks with his thumbs. Brendon blinked, squeezing his eyes shut. He reached up and tentatively took Dallon’s hands in his own, holding them close to his chest. “She didn’t… she’s not dead because of you. She’s not.”

 

“Her parents said I killed her,” Dallon said. He hadn’t told anyone else about that. There wasn’t anyone else to tell, other than Brendon. Brendon was all Dallon had left, and their friendship was shaky at best. “They called her their son. They couldn’t even accept her once she was dead. That’s… that’s disgusting.”

 

“I hate them,” Brendon said quietly. They were both being so quiet, alone in that motel room. There wasn’t anyone around for miles who would even care about their conversation, but they both still felt like they had to keep quiet. 

 

Dallon pulled Brendon back in, burying his face in Brendon’s hair. It smelled like it hadn’t been washed in about a week, but Dallon didn’t mind. “I feel like I should, but I can’t feel much of anything right now. It doesn’t feel real, but I know it is. I hate that it is.”

 

“I hate that we ended up here,” Brendon said. Dallon wasn’t sure if he was referring to Santa Rosa, the motel, or some kind of metaphorical place. Whatever it was, Dallon agreed. There was probably some alternate universe where things hadn’t fallen apart, Breezy was still alive, and the three of them were speeding down the highway in the Brobecks van, destined for California. Dallon and Brendon weren’t in that universe, though. They might not ever be in that universe. 

 

“I hate that this feels like defeat,” Dallon said. 

 

“You two had a plan, didn’t you?” Brendon said, nuzzling in against Dallon’s neck. Dallon ran his hand through Brendon’s hair and nodded. He could feel Brendon’s eyelashes on his neck. “Like, once you got to California, you knew what you were going to do, and where you’d be in five years. I didn’t… I don’t really have that. I don’t know where I am in life. I’m just floating.”

 

“You’ll find somewhere,” Dallon said, even though he didn’t particularly believe that himself. It was what Brendon needed to hear, and at that moment, it was all Dallon could do for the kid. “You’ll find your own California.”

 

* * *

 

**June 6, 2003; Winona, Arizona.**

 

“You know I ran away, right?” Brendon asked. It was after midnight. Dallon didn’t think he would ever have a normal sleep schedule again in his life. 

 

“Yeah,” Dallon said. He was tired. He was very tired. He didn’t even know where they were. It was too dark to see anything, and there weren’t any road signs. “Are your parents mad?”

 

“They kicked me out,” Brendon said. “Well, kind of. I told them pretty much everything about us, except I didn’t tell them who you were--like your name or anything--because I didn’t want to get you in trouble. And, they told me that they were disappointed in me, and thought I new better, and they, um, they threatened to send me away. So I sent myself away. I didn’t realise you and Breezy weren’t going to follow me.”

 

“I kind of did follow you,” Dallon said, which, naturally, wasn’t the right thing to say at the moment. He could see Brendon slouching down in his seat, ad Dallon took one hand off of the steering wheel to hold Brendon’s hand. “I’m sorry they did that.”

 

“I don’t have anywhere to go back to,” Brendon said. 

 

“I have a couch,” Dallon said. He knew, on some level, that there was a very slim chance that Dallon could convince his parents to let Brendon stay with them for an extended amount of time. Brendon didn’t have any other options, though, so Dallon had to try. And, if his parents flat out refused to host Brendon, he and Dallon could always live in the Brobecks van and figure the rest out from there. “And if I can’t give you the couch, we can stay in the car. It’s mine, legally, so it can be our last resort.”

 

Faithfully was playing in the car. Dallon wasn’t sure when he’d put that song on a CD. It never sounded as sad as it did then, past midnight on a highway, heading back to a funeral. It was grossly fitting for the situation. Dallon considered yelling at God, getting mad and demanding answers, but that wasn’t how things worked. There weren’t always answers. Sometimes that was harder to accept than others. 

 

_ Through space and time _

_ Always another show _

_ Wondering where I am _

_ Lost without you _

 

“Are you…” Brendon said, his voice catching. “Are you crying?”

 

Dallon wiped his face. He was, even though he hadn’t realised it. He put on the hazard lights and pulled over to the side of the road. Dallon put the car in park and immediately, he started shaking, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes and hunching over so that the top of his head was pressed against the steering wheel. It was too much. It was all too much, and he was slowly realising that he couldn’t take it. 

 

Dallon rubbed his face, and sniffled. “It wasn’t supposed to end like this. We had… we had plans. All three of us had plans.”

 

“I know,” Brendon said. Dallon turned his head towards Brendon, and saw, in the dim light coming from the headlights, that his face was wet with tears. Brendon swallowed, thickly, and wiped his own face. “I know it wasn’t my fault or anything--I mean I read the letter, I know what happened--but I feel so guilty. Like, if I’d done something different, maybe she’d still be here. Maybe things wouldn’t have gone wrong.”

 

“I feel that too,” Dallon whispered. He’d been feeling so guilty ever since he found out. “I was so busy wallowing in my own shit, maybe I missed something. Maybe I could have stopped her, or seen it coming, or… if I wasn’t so in my own head that Wednesday, maybe I would have noticed that something was up and I could have asked her about it and talked he out of it and we could have survived. We could have gotten out there, but I was just… fuck, I was so selfish.”

 

The CD was now playing  _ Total Eclipse of the Heart _ and Brendon was holding Dallon’s face in his hands. He leaned in as Bonnie Tyler crooned out  _ Once upon a time there was light in my life, B _ _ ut now there's only love in the dark _ , and he was kissing Dallon. It was like they were back in the desert again, or in an empty golf course. They’d never kissed while the sun was out. Dallon was crying again, not pulling back, and he heard Brendon gasp out a sob into his mouth. 

 

Dallon gripped Brendon tightly and dropped his head to Brendon’s shoulder. He squeezed his eyes shut. “What are we doing.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Brendon said into Dallon’s hair. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

 

“We should get back on the road,” Dallon said, and gently pushed Brendon away, ignoring the deep twisting in his chest. This whole week was a mess, and Dallon wasn’t getting any time to process it. He probably wouldn’t get a chance until after the funeral, because he’d have to deal with his parents and Brendon interacting until that happened. And then, after that, Brendon would have to go somewhere. Dallon didn’t want him to disappear off into the night again, not leaving a trace, because Dallon didn’t want to be alone again. 

 

He considered asking Brendon if he had any plans for what he would do after Breezy’s funeral, but he was afraid of the answer. He kept his mouth shut, turned up the volume of the music, and drove faster. The destination wasn’t much better than their current location, but at least Dallon was moving. He didn’t want to stay still for too long. He didn’t trust himself. 

 

* * *

 

**June 7, 2003; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

Dallon’s parents had let Brendon spend the night, but he was put upstairs in the guest room and Dallon’s parents kept their door open so that Dallon couldn’t sneak upstairs to be with Brendon. Dallon didn’t sneak up, because Brendon was sixteen and they weren’t involved with each other anymore. That kiss on the road didn’t mean anything. It was an accident, and they’d both agreed that it didn’t count. It was real, but it didn’t have any meaning. 

 

Dallon stood in front of his closet mirror, staring himself down. He looked tired. There were deep circles under his eyes, and the whites of his eyes were tinged with red. His hair was flat; he hadn’t washed it properly since he’d found out about Breezy. He just didn’t have the energy to get a real shower. Dallon looked… gross. But it didn’t matter, because there were only two people in the world whose opinions mattered to him. One of them was dead, and she probably wouldn’t care what Dallon was wearing to her funeral, anyway. The other had seen Dallon sobbing on the side of a highway in the middle of the night and, for whatever reason, had decided to stick around anyway. 

 

Dallon could do this. He had to do this. Someone had to go there knowing who Breezy really was. It might as well be him and Brendon. 

 

“Are you going to be okay?” Brendon asked from the doorway. Dallon had no idea how long he’d been there, or if Dallon’s parents were right out of sight, watching to make sure their son didn’t start fucking the teenager in his doorway. 

 

Dallon sighed, still looking at himself in the mirror. “I don’t know. But I have to be.”

 

“You don’t have to be anything,” Brendon said. “You don’t even have to go. I mean, if it’s too much, you can stay back, I can go and do the whole condolences thing, and pretend her parents weren’t… the way they were. I can do that for you, if you’re not okay.”

 

Not going felt like Dallon was giving up. Like he was letting Breezy’s parents win. They thought Dallon killed their son.  _ Well _ , Dallon thought,  _ you never had a son. And I sure as hell didn’t kill your daughter. And I’m sure as hell not letting you two think that what you did and what you stand for is okay. I’m going to that funeral out of spite. _ He turned and faced Brendon, and there was a hard, angry smile on his face. “I’m not okay, but I’m doing this for Breezy. I’m going to that funeral out of spite.”

 

“Me too,” Brendon said. His face didn’t so much light up as it got older. It was like Dallon was seeing Brendon grow older and bitter right before his eyes. He was too pissed off at the whole situation to feel bad. Instead, he crossed the room, took Brendon’s hand, and squeezed it gently before releasing it. Brendon looked up at him. “Let’s go say goodbye.”

 

They drove to the church with the music loud, their sunglasses on, and the windows down. For a moment, it felt like an epic scene from a movie, but that moment didn’t stick around for long. There were too many people dressed in grey and black, their heads down as they walked into the church. Dallon parked pretty far from the entrance, because there weren’t a lot of open spots. He wondered, for a moment, how many people were there for Breezy and how many were there for her parents. 

 

“Do you think her parents are going to recognise you?” Brendon whispered as they sat down in the sanctuary. 

 

Dallon shrugged, turning the bulletin over in his hands. “I don’t know. I hope they do. I hope they recognise both of us, and realise we’re here for their daughter, not some son they never had.” 

 

The organ started to play, and Dallon and Brendon turned around in their seats to watch the pallbearers come in with a coffin. Breezy’s coffin. Dallon tried not to think about what she looked like in there, or if she was in there. He assumed that she was, because he didn’t know where else they would have put her. He held onto Brendon’s hand, keeping their hands against the fabric of the pew seat so that no one could see them. Dallon didn’t want to drag Brendon into anything. He’d let Breezy’s parents think whatever they wanted about him, but Brendon was off limits. 

 

Dallon didn’t pay attention to most of the service. The preacher kept calling Breezy by her birthname, and Dallon kept flinching every time he did. It felt like he was watching the whole thing through a television screen, instead of in real time. He didn’t cry at all. He didn't even feel like he was there. At the end of it all, everyone got up and moved on to the next room, where they were supposed to walk up to Breezy’s remaining relatives and give condolences. 

 

“Why are we still here?” Brendon whispered, pulling at the sleeve of Dallon’s suit jacket. “We only knew Breezy.”

 

“I have to talk to her sister,” Dallon said. He hadn’t realised that that was why he was there until that moment, but he had to apologise to Breezy’s younger sister. She was pretty easy to spot, because she’d sectioned herself off away from Breezy’s parents, who glared at Dallon when they saw him. Her head was down, and her layered bangs covered most of her face, but she was still interacting with the people who came by to offer their condolences. 

 

Dallon took a deep breath and stepped forward. She looked up at him, and then at Brendon, recognition dawning on her face when she saw him. “Brendon? You knew…”

 

“...your sister?” Brendon asked slowly, and for everyone’s sake, Dallon hoped that Breezy’s sister knew who she really was. The girl nodded, her eyes shining. Brendon dropped his gaze, staring at his and Dallon’s shoes. “Yeah. I knew her. Dallon knew her better, though.”

 

“You’re Dallon, then?” She asked him. Dallon nodded, and she offered him a small, sad smile. “She talked about you a lot. I think she considered you to be her best friend. Probably.”

 

“I’m sorry for what happened,” Dallon said. He didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t think there was anything else to day. This girl’s older sister was dead. She’d killed herself because the world was too full of shit and she couldn’t put up with it any more. “Breezy deserved better.”

 

“I know,” she said. “And I’m sorry you lost your best friend.”

 

* * *

 

**June 17, 2003; Summerlin, Nevada.**

 

Dallon got working as a hotel receptionist in a hotel downtown, and Brendon found a job at the mall, working for Smoothie King at the mall. Brendon had found a tiny, one room apartment downtown and had moved in immediately. He didn’t want to live in Dallon’s parents’ house forever, and he couldn’t, either, because Dallon’s parents had told Dallon that if Brendon was still there by the end of the month, they’d be kicking both boys out and onto the street. Apparently, Dallon’s parents could put up with only so much gayness at once. 

 

It was about five in the morning, and Dallon was alone in his car, driving to where Breezy had been buried. He’d been putting this off for forever--ten days felt a lot longer, now that he was actually doing things other than sitting around in his parents’ house and getting judged by his mother. He had the flowers in the passenger seat, because one of his coworkers was married to a guy who worked at a flower shop, and she said she’d get Dallon some flowers if he told her what he wanted and gave her the money. He had, and she did. They looked a little sad, now that they were out of the vase he’d been holding them in. 

 

The cemetery was empty. Dallon parked the Brobecks van outside of the gate, which was locked and closed, and got out, taking the flowers with him. He stared at the fence. It wasn’t that tall, really, but Dallon didn’t climb a lot of fences, and he wasn’t used to climbing them with only one arm. He made it over, though, and then took out the keychain flashlight that he’d bought from a CVS a few days ago. He’d planned this out. He knew what he was doing. 

 

The grave had the wrong name on it, but Dallon wasn’t too surprised. Disappointed, of course, because he wanted Breezy’s gender to be recognised at least once by her parents, but he wasn’t surprised. 

He’d picked the flowers out himself, and held onto them like they ever about to break. He felt like he was about to break. She’d been his best friend, and now she was gone. Buried under a name that wasn’t hers. Anyone who came here and saw her would only be seeing a lie. 

 

Dallon hated that. He hated how he couldn’t feel anything other than a deep, sinking feeling in his chest. If this was mourning, he wanted something else. He wanted to get to the stage of anger and just stay there, because maybe then he’d be able to get something done about this whole mess. He couldn’t bring Breezyz back. He couldn’t even admit to himself that he didn’t fit in on the gender binary. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do, now.

 

Dallon set the flowers down in front of the headstone, and stared Breezy’s dead name down. His fingers grazed over the last date on the stone:  _ June 1st, 2003 _ . Dallon swallowed thickly. “You deserved better.”

 

He’d been saying that, so many times, over the past few weeks. She deserved better. We deserved better. Dallon didn’t know what the words meant anymore, but he knew he was living by them. He was going to get out of here. He wouldn’t go to California, because that was Breezy’s dream and he didn’t want to steal that from her, but he would go somewhere. He’d become someone in the music industry, and he’d never let the world forget how he got there. He existed because Breezy could not. 

 

Dallon found himself in front of Brendon’s apartment building. He hadn’t meant to end up there, but it just felt right to find Brendon again. He let himself in--the landlord had given Dallon a key, thinking he was Brendon’s older brother or something--and headed up to Brendon’s floor. He knocked twice before the door open and he was faced with a tired, squinting Brendon Urie. Brendon rubbed his face. “Dude, what are you doing here? It’s like… too early.”

 

“I don’t know, but I know I’m not giving up on anything we came up with,” Dallon said, letting himself in. Brendon closed the door behind him, and the two settled in on the broken couch they’d saved from the side of the road. “Just because she’s gone doesn’t mean I have to give up on getting out of here, you know. I can still go be a musician in a band somewhere, even if it’s not California. And you can come with me, if you want, and do whatever you want with your life, and we don’t ever have to come back here.”

 

Brendon stared at Dallon’s knees. “I don’t really have any plans for the future. I’m not even going back to school.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“There’s no point,” Brendon said. “I’m never going to please my parents, now that they know I’m gay, and since I can’t get their help with anything, I won’t be able to afford college, and what’s the point of finishing high school if I can’t even get into a college and maybe get out of Vegas that way.”

 

“Brendon, listen to me,” Dallon said, leaning forward to hold Brendon gently by his shoulders. “Don’t drop out. I know that this whole situation sucks right now, but trust me, having at least one degree is better than having none at all or just half of one that doesn’t really count.”

 

Brendon looked up at Dallon through his eyelashes. For a moment, Dallon was afraid that he was going to try and kiss him again. He didn’t, though. He just took Dallon’s hands off of his shoulders and curled in on himself. Brendon let out a shuddering breath, and Dallon instinctively pulled him into his arms, holding him close. Brendon tucked his head under Dallon’s shoulder. “Okay. I’ll go back. But promise me you’ll get me out of here, and that if you ever get into a cool band, please don’t forget about me.”

  
“I could never forget about you, Bren,” Dallon said. He really couldn’t. Brendon was a permanent part of Dallon’s life now, part of a rollercoaster of emotions that got him through the last six months. Breezy was there, too, and she was just as important as Brendon, even though she wasn’t alive. Dallon wasn’t anywhere near over what had happened. He’d keep Breezy alive, though, in memory and in action. He wasn’t going to fade away. He wouldn’t let straight people tell him where he could and couldn’t fit in. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I keep saying "Pete Wentz is going to get roasted in the next chapter, look forward to that" but then I keep writing extra scenes that are important and it kicks the roast session farther down. I'm sorry for that. But listen, this time I mean it: next chapter will have the Pete Wentz Roast Session By Ryan Ross And Jon Walker. 
> 
> Also, a lot of stuff happens in this chapter, and it takes place across like three months. It was a wild ride, chapter eleven. We're getting near the end of this fic (it's at 100,000 words now, what the fuck), but I'm not going to say how many more chapters are left. If I can't accurately tell youse guys when Pete's going to get roasted, I definitely can't tell you how much more of Mile Marker is left.
> 
> But, thanks for sticking with me for so long. I promise, when everything starts to fall into place in the next chapter or so, it's gonna be great. I'm excited, and I'm the one writing it.

**October 9, 2004; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Spencer really didn’t want to go to homecoming, since Brendon would be there with his new girlfriend and they’d probably be acting all cutesy and gross. He couldn’t even use work as an excuse, because his boss had given him and Linda the day off because she knew it was their homecoming date and she “didn’t want them to miss out on such a cool opportunity.” Spencer really, really wished that his boss wasn’t 26 years old and had been homeschooled her entire life. She was too willing to live vicariously through her teenaged employees, and now Spencer had to play third wheel with Brendon and his girlfriend. 

 

At least Linda had promised to be there, that way Spencer wouldn’t be alone and suffering the whole time. 

 

Jon was driving the Brobecks van, because apparently his boss needed him to come in to work that evening and he needed the van. Spencer didn’t see why Jon couldn’t just take the bus to wherever it was that he worked (he still hadn’t told anyone, Ryan included, what exactly it was that he did, and Ryan and Spencer were starting to get into weird conspiracy ideas that involved a Chicago mafia). 

 

“Are there still mobs in Chicago?” Spencer asked. Brendon and his girlfriend were in the back seats, being gross again. 

 

Jon, because he never got phased by anything, shrugged. “I have no idea. What, are you thinking of starting one?”

 

“No, it’s dumb,” Spencer said, looking away. Of course, then he only had Brendon and his girlfriend to pay attention to, and he really didn’t want to do that. Ever. He was jealous, he knew he was jealous, and he knew that he had no right to be jealous because Brendon had never truly been his. “Ryan and I were coming up with weird theories about what your job was, and one of us decided that you worked in the Chicago mafia and killed people.”

 

“Honestly, I wish I’d thought of that,” Jon said. “It would probably pay better.”

 

“Yeah, but it’s more dangerous and also illegal,” Spencer countered.

 

“You’re assuming that I’d get caught,” Jon said. “Which is wrong, because I’ve never been caught in my life. I’m a sneaky fucker. If Hogwarts was real, I’d definitely be a Slytherin.”

 

“That’s the Harry Potter thing, right?”

 

Jon sighed over dramatically. “I can’t believe you. I will make you and Ryan both read the Harry Potter books if it’s the last thing I do with myself. You’re missing out on a lot, because the movies so far kind of suck, and they keep leaving out the important parts.”

 

Spencer promised Jon that he’d read the books, eventually, probably when he didn’t have to work at the comic shop or do homework. He got out of the van, with Brendon and his girlfriend following him into the school. The homecoming was being held in the cafeteria, but Spencer could hear the music streaming out from the entrance. It reminded him of his prom experience as Ryan’s date, except this would probably be just as boring but without a best friend to sneak out with. 

 

“Spence, you wanna dance with us?” Brendon asked, looking up at Spencer with big brown eyes. His girlfriend was attached to his arm. Her hair was bubblegum pink now. Her dress was black and covered with sequins. It was kind of ugly, but that might have been Spencer’s jealousy talking. 

 

Spencer shook his head. “I’m gonna go find Linda. You two have fun.”

 

What he didn’t add was,  _ don’t come looking for me until it’s time to leave _ , because the longer he watched the two of them, the more jealous and gross he felt. He should have known, really, that Brendon would eventually move on to someone who wasn’t him. Spencer was trans. Spencer was complicated, and didn’t make sense to most people. It didn’t matter that Brendon’s sexuality was more fluid than water; when people wanted dicks they went after guys, and when they wanted pussy, they went after girls. Spencer didn’t fit into that dichotomy, and it sucked. 

 

Linda ended up finding him. He was leaning against a wall, and he knew he was brooding, but he couldn’t help it. He had a good reason to be bitter, really. Linda sidled up next to him anyway, with a cup of punch in her hand and her feet bare. “Guys are really gross, by the way. They keep grinding against my ass.”

 

“It could be worse,” Spencer said. “You could be in love with one of them.”

 

Linda made a face, like being in love with a guy was the worst possible thing she could imagine. She wasn’t wrong. Being in love with a guy sucked. 

 

“So, I’m guessing you don’t have a date then?” Linda asked. 

 

“Yeah, the person I thought was going to be my date turned out to be interested in someone else, so now I’m just third-wheeling,” Spencer said. He turned his head towards her. “Third-wheeling fucking sucks, by the way.”

 

“No shit,” Linda said. She and Spencer returned their attention to the kids on the dance floor. Spencer was looking for Brendon, even though he didn’t actually want to be looking for Brendon. He couldn’t stop himself. Brendon and his girlfriend were dancing against each other, and they looked like they were having fun. A very petty part of Spencer, one that had developed from years of being around Ryan, really wanted Brendon to step on her foot or accidentally spill something on her so that she would hate him and they would break up. 

 

Spencer crossed his arms over his chest. “Is it bad to want your ex to fuck up with their new girlfriend so that the relationship is ruined completely?”

 

“Depends,” Linda said. “What are you planning to do to her? I’m down for a lot of things, but I’m not about to do something illegal just because you’re feeling petty.”

 

“I wasn’t thinking about actually  _ doing _ anything,” Spencer said, even though he’d started thinking about what he and Linda could do to ruin Brendon’s girlfriend’s night as soon as she brought it up as an idea. “I was just thinking about it. As like, an abstract concept. Not as something I’d really do. I still have to live with the guy she’s dating.”

 

“Whoa, wait, you live with yours ex?” Linda said, staring at Spencer with wide, surprised eyes. At least she wasn’t thrown by the fact that Spencer’s ex was also a guy. “How does that even work? You’re both in  _ high school _ .”

 

“It’s complicated,” Spencer said. “But we’re in a band together, too, so I have to act like I’m not upset, which sucks, because sometimes I just want to yell and vent and kick the wall, you know? Even though it was kind of my fault, I’m still pissed that I’m not his homecoming date.”

 

Spencer sighed, and drooped against the wall. “This sucks.”

 

“Yeah,” Linda said. She’d tensed up beside him. Maybe she’d finally realised that she was walking to a gay guy, and she was freaking out about it. She’s said she was from Texas, and Texas wasn’t really friendly towards gay people, so Linda being homophobic wasn’t completely out of the question. Spencer watched her bite her lip, worrying it between her teeth, and he wondered what she was thinking, and if he needed to start coming up with an excuse to leave or not. She took a deep breath and turned to face him, her back to the entrance of the cafeteria. “Can I tell you something about myself? I haven’t told anyone else, but for whatever reason, I trust you, and I’m kind of hoping you won’t be an ass about it.”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Spencer said. “We’re friends. You can tell me anything.”

 

“I think I might be a lesbian,” she said. Her voice was barely audible above the music the DJ was blasting out, but Spencer heard her. Linda’s eyes flicked away from Spencer’s face. “I mean, I haven’t really had a crush on a guy since I was like, eleven, and I keep looking at girls and thinking they’re pretty, and there’s one girl I kind of really want to kiss, except I don’t know if she likes girls or not.”

 

“Linda, I’m a guy with an ex almost  _ boyfriend _ ,” Spencer said, holding her shoulders. “If anyone’s gonna be okay with you kissing girls in this school, it’s gonna be me.”

 

“Oh, right,” Linda said. She laughed nervously, rubbing her arm. “So um, this might sound really rude or offensive or something, but I didn’t realise you were a guy. Not in like, a mean way, or that you don’t look like a guy, because you do, now that I know, it’s just that you’re kind of… feminine? I guess? In the way you carry yourself and stuff.”

 

_ Naturally. _ Spencer sighed. “Well, since we’re sharing: I’m also transgender, which basically means that everyone thought I was a girl when I was growing up, because of like, genitals and stuff, but I’m really a guy, and I’ve been acting like a guy for a while now. So, that’s a thing.”

 

“So, you  _ are  _ a guy then?” Linda asked. Spencer nodded. Sometimes, cisgender people asked the strangest clarification questions. Linda narrowed her eyes, but not in a mean way, just that she was looking Spencer up and down and really focusing on his appearance. It wasn’t the first time someone had done that to him. He knew--he hoped--she was only curious and wasn’t about to turn into a close -minded jerk. 

 

Linda nodded, thoughtfully. “So now that that’s been cleared up--sorry, by the way--what are we going to do about your shitty ex boyfriend? Because I kind of want to go yell at him for letting someone as cool as you go.”

 

Spencer grinned. “Well, we can always mess with his girlfriend…”

 

* * *

 

**October 31, 2004; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Spencer was the only person at the apartment who wasn’t working on Halloween, which would have been a lot more fun if all of his friends except Linda weren’t also his roommates. Spencer had originally planned to invite Linda over to watch cheesy horror movies with him and eat pizza, but her parents refused because they didn’t want their daughter hanging out with a guy when there wasn’t any parental supervision. 

 

Instead, he and Linda were hanging around the Borders bookstore where Ryan worked, and occasionally pestering her. Ryan was working at the cafe, taking orders and making people’s drinks for them, and Spencer was trying not to laugh at her because Ryan was the last person Spencer could imagine working in a customer service job. Ryan wasn’t the most people-friendly person. She wasn’t purposely an asshole or anything, she was just shyer and quieter than what most jobs wanted. 

 

“I know I can be kind of clueless about this stuff, so if I say anything assholey just pour coffee on my head, but is Ryan also transgender?” Linda asked, quietly. Spencer had learned that, where Linda came from, gay people weren’t talked about, and no one was openly transgender. She didn’t have a lot of experience outside of her own to work with, but she was trying. 

 

“Uh, yeah,” Spencer said. “She’s not as out as I am, though, so if someone calls her a guy, just go with it. We were both bullied for being trans at our old high school, and it was really bad. Especially for Ryan.”

 

“Is that why you two came to Chicago?” Linda asked. She knew that Spencer and Ryan were here without their parents, and that Dallon--who Linda had met a few times when he picked Spencer up from work--was the closest thing they had to an adult guardian. She also knew about Jon and Brendon, and that Brendon was Spencer’s ex but they were playing nice, but she hadn’t met either of them yet. 

 

“Partially,” Spencer said. “Ryan came here because she got a free ride, which is pretty awesome. I came with her because I didn’t want to be alone in Vegas. Ryan was my only friend, and I could have done my senior year there and been fine, because most people thought I was just a weird lesbian instead of a guy, but I didn’t want to.”

 

“Do you think you’re ever going to get your band back with Ryan?” Linda asked. 

 

“I don’t know,” Spencer said, honestly. His shoulders slumped. He wanted his and Ryan’s band to come back, and he wanted to get to play again, but it just didn’t seem possible. Drum kits were expensive, and they’d only just saved up enough extra money to get Dallon a bass. Real life was expensive, and Spencer was tired all the time from having to balance work, school, and homework all the time. “I want to, but everyone has all this stuff they have to do, and drum kits are super expensive, and even if I do get a new kit, we’d still have to find a place to record, and someone to sign us, and we don’t have either of those--”

 

“I can ask my parents if they’d let you use our garage,” Linda offered. 

 

Spencer perked up. “Seriously?”

 

“On one condition,” she said, holding up a finger. Spencer was ready to do it, regardless of the condition. He’d probably hand over an organ or two if it meant they’d get a practice space. It didn’t matter that Spencer couldn’t play drums; he’d figure something out. Linda pointer her finger at Spencer. “You have to help me start a Gay-Straight Alliance at school.”

 

“What?” Spencer asked. He hadn’t expected that. 

 

“I’ve already got a teacher, and it’d be nice to be involved in something again, because I was the head of my last high school’s democratic debate team,” Linda said. “You wouldn’t have to do too much unless you wanted to. The school just says I have to have a co-founder to start the club, and you’re pretty much the only person I know here who’d be willing to be a part of it.”

 

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, glancing over at Ryan. It wasn’t like she’d care, really, but he still felt weird doing something this big without her there. “Sure. How would we do it, though, since we’re both working?”

 

“Neither of us work Mondays, and there aren’t many clubs that meet on Monday either, so we wouldn’t have to worry about competition,” Linda said. She ran her thumb around the rim of her coffee cup. “I don’t know if there are any other people at school who are gay or trans, but I mean, there have to be some, right? It’s a big school.”

 

“Well, Brendon’s bi,” Spencer said, even though he really didn’t want to be in a club with Brendon, especially not a gay club. That would just be awkward. “So that’s three people total. And you’re right, there are a lot of people in the school, and some of them are probably gay. Even if there aren’t a lot of gay people at school, we can still find straight people who won’t hate us completely, which would be nice.”

 

“Good point,” Linda said, nodded. “So are you in?”

 

“Does my band get your basement?” Spencer asked. Linda nodded, and stuck out her hand for him to shake. Spencer shook her hand, and the agreement was sealed. “I’m gonna go tell Ryan. Hold on.”

 

He got up and almost ran across the little cafe area to get to Ryan. Spencer wanted her to know as soon as possible that they had a practice space. Spencer could air drum, or make drum noises, or use pots and pans, whatever. It didn’t matter. They had a place to work stuff out, and that was what was important. The rest of the band’s issues could be solved later. 

 

Spencer got up to the counter--finally--and Ryan looked relieved to see him. She actually beamed. “Dude, thank God. There are way too many people here for Halloween night.”

 

“I know,” Spencer said. “But guess what?”

 

“What?”

 

“Linda said that her parents would be okay with us using their garage to practice band stuff,” Spencer said. That wasn’t  _ exactly _ what Linda had said; she’s said that they’d probably be okay with it, but Spencer was too excited about this to care about the details. 

 

“You don’t have drums,” Ryan countered. 

 

“I’ll figure something out,” Spencer said. “Maybe we can find somewhere that would let me rent drums, I don’t know. Or we could use a website, make a digital drum part, and just play it during practice. We’ll figure something out. We always do.”

 

* * *

 

**November 2, 2004; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

“Wanna go on an adventure?” Jon asked from the front seat of the Brobecks van. Spencer had just gotten off of his shift at work, because apparently comic book stores didn’t care about election day and made their employees come in anyway. It wasn't a bad shift though, because Linda was there and their manager was Kyle, who was kind of an asshole but also pretty laid back and didn't make them act like they were doing things if there was no one in the store. 

 

Spencer untucked his polo shirt and messed with his hair in the mirror. “Sure. Where are we going?”

 

“It's a surprise, but I know you'll be a fan,” Jon said, which was simultaneously exciting and terrifying. “It's a bit of a ride though, so if you wanna shuffle through Dallon's music and find something other than whatever's on the radio, feel free.”

 

“It's only 80s music.”

 

“Seriously?” Jon asked incredulously. Spencer nodded. All of Dallon’s music was from the 80s. All of it. There were some weird things there, things that Spencer didn’t realise came out of the 80s, but it was all from the same decade. Spencer was just impressed that Dallon was that driven to have all his music under one era. Jon pressed play on the CD slot anyway. “Wow. I thought Ryan was just exaggerating when she said that. At least we know his taste in music.”

 

“Dallon likes stuff that wasn’t from the 80s,” Spencer said because he felt like he needed to defend Dallon’s weird car music choices. “He just only listens to 80s music while driving.”

 

Jon made a little “huh,” noise, and then the two of them settled into a comfortable silence as  _ Tainted Love _ played from the radio. Spencer watched the sights go by outside of the window. It was mostly the bay, and since it was getting dark out, there wasn’t a lot to see. He wondered where Jon was taking him, because he couldn’t think of anything, unless Jon was about to reveal where he worked, which seemed a little extreme. Maybe Jon was just as dramatic as Ryan, and was just better at hiding it. Or maybe Jon was actually part of the Chicago mob and was taking Spencer out to the middle of nowhere to kill him. 

 

Jon pulled into a parking space, the headlights shining up on a sign that read  _ Recording Studio _ , and turned the car off. “Ta-da.”

 

“Why are we at a recording studio?” Spencer asked. 

 

“Follow me,” Jon grinned, getting out of the car. Spencer had no other option, so he followed Jon into the building, which was empty and a little warm. Spencer shrugged off his coat, draping it over his shoulder. Jon led him into a darkened room, and then flipped the lights on to reveal a drumkit, gleaming and set up behind a glass panel. This was an actual studio room, with actual editing equipment and a professional drum kit. 

 

Spencer’s eyes widened. “Holy shit, you work here?”

 

“Nah, I’m just a tech for some bands,” Jon said, shrugging it off like that was the most uninteresting thing about him. “I mentioned that I had a friend who wanted to drum, and one of the guys offered to let me borrow his kit. We can’t move it from here, but if you wanted to come up here and mess around…”

 

“Dude, this is the coolest thing ever,” Spencer said. He was grinning so hard that his face was starting to hurt a little.  An actual drum kit. This was the best day of Spencer’s  _ life _ . He didn’t look back at Jon as he moved through the room, pulling the door open and going into the recording room where the drum kit was set up and waiting for him. There was a pair of sticks sitting on the stool. Spencer picked them up, twirling them around in his fingers and getting a feel for them. How heavy they were, how much force he’d have to give them to get the sound he wanted. 

 

He looked up, finally, and Jon was still on the other side of the glass, just watching Spencer. He had his arms crossed over his chest, one eyebrow slightly raised, and a slight smile on his face. He tapped his ears, a silent suggestion that Spencer make use of the headphones that were also sitting on the stool. Spencer rolled his eyes, but put the headphones on anyway, trying not to think about how ridiculous he looked with them on. His hair was probably messed up, too. 

 

Spencer sat down at the kit, trailing a drum stick across the standing cymbal before giving it a tentative crash. 

 

_ Right _ , Spencer thought, and took a deep breath to calm himself.  _ Drumming. I can do this. This is what I’m good at. _ He bit his lip, and started going. He didn’t have a specific song in his head, he was just freestyling, beating out whatever felt right. 

 

He kept going until he could literally feel the skin on his fingers bleeding off, and his shoulders and arms were sore. His ankle was starting to cramp, but it felt good. He hadn’t been able to do this in months, and before that, he and Ryan hadn’t gotten together to practice much because they didn’t have enough members for a real band and it was kind of depressing to play with only half a band. 

 

This was different, though, and Spencer could feel it in his blistered, bleeding fingers and his tense shoulders. He and Ryan had found their band. For a moment, Spencer didn’t care if they ever made it past playing in Linda’s garage and empty studios at night. He finally felt at home. He just hoped that Ryan felt the same, because of all the people Spencer knew, Ryan deserved to feel at home the most. 

 

Spencer put everything back where he found it, and used his elbows to open and close the door because his fingers were starting to throb. He grinned up at Jon. “Thanks, by the way. How long was I in there for?”

 

“Almost two hours,” Jon said. He held up his phone and a pack of bandaids, handing the bandaids over to Spencer. “Dallon got back from work while you were in there, and he called me asking if we were dead or something. So, at least one of our friends cares about our well-being.”

 

“I’m pretty sure Ryan also cares about us,” Spencer said as he continued to wrap his finger blisters in bandaids. There were a lot of blisters, most of them over older calluses from when Spencer got to play drums all the time and had enough time to develop calluses. He handed the bandaids back to Jon and grabbed his coat off of the soundboard. 

 

“Speaking of Ryan and caring about people, are you still wearing your binder thing?” Jon asked. Spencer nodded, because of course he was. It wasn’t like he’d had time to change out of it after his shift at First Aid Comics, and he hadn’t wanted to, anyway. Spencer hated being out of the apartment in anything other than his binder, because he always felt like his chest was super obvious, even when Ryan or someone else told him it wasn’t. 

 

Jon sighed and opened the door to let them out of the recording room. “Shouldn’t you only have that on for eight hours? You’re going to end up fucking up your chest, Spence, and that would suck.”

 

“I know what I’m doing,” Spencer said. “I’ll take it off as soon as we get back to the apartment, okay? I just don’t like being outside without it on.”

 

“Okay,” Jon said, and Spencer was really glad that he wasn’t trying to act like he knew more about being trans than Spencer. Jon was cis, so there were a lot of things he just didn’t get, because he didn’t have to deal with them. Having unwanted boobs was just one of many issues Spencer had to deal with in his life. 

 

They exited the building, and immediately, Spencer wrapped his arms around himself. It was fucking cold out. Vegas rarely got cold before Christmas, but apparently Chicago thought that winter started around the middle of October. Spencer held back a shiver, because Jon was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and flip flops and he didn’t look at all concerned by the drop in temperature. “How are you not freezing?”

 

“I grew up here,” Jon said, opening the driver’s door and hopping into the car at the same time as Spencer. “I’m used to the cold, and this isn’t even that cold. Wait until it’s like, February.”

 

Spencer made a face. “Fantastic.”

 

“Hey, at least you’ll get snow,” Jon said. Spencer was pretty sure that Jon was laughing at him, just not in a dickish way. Spencer knew it was pretty pathetic, to be bundled up and shivering even though it was still above freezing. He wasn’t used to the cold yet, that was all. He’d probably be used to it once it started getting really cold, and he’d be able to enjoy the snow when it came. 

 

* * *

 

**November 25, 2004; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Ryan had been invited to have Thanksgiving dinner with Jon, his parents, and their family, and for whatever reason, she’d agreed to do it. Spencer was doing his best to be supportive, but he wasn’t going to be there with her, so he didn’t know how much he could help. 

 

“This was a mistake,” Ryan said from the bathroom. Spencer was sitting outside, on the edge of Ryan and Jon’s bed. He was already dressed up, because somehow Linda’s parents had heard that some of the band wouldn’t be going home for Thanksgiving, and they’d invited everyone over to their house for dinner. Apparently, it was an all day event, because Linda’s family was Italian and Catholic, and they all tended to make a big deal out of everything. Jon and Ryan had declined, but Brendon and Dallon (and Spencer) didn’t have an excuse and so they were all heading to the Ignarro’s one Jon’s parents came and picked Jon and Ryan up. 

 

It was going to be an interesting day. 

 

“It’s not a mistake,” Spencer said. “Jon’s parents are going to love you, don’t worry. My parents love you, and I’m not even your boyfriend.”

 

She stuck her head out of the bathroom to glare at Spencer from under her bangs. Her hair, which she’d straight-ironed almost to death, was staticky and pressed to her face. “Ever consider that the reason they like you is  _ because  _ we’re not dating?”

 

“Ry, I’m pretty sure my parents wanted us to get married at some point,” Spencer rolled his eyes. “You’re a good person, and you’re funny, and you know how to act parent-appropriate. You’ll be fine.”

 

“What if they don’t get the whole trans thing?” She asked, her voice getting all quiet and wobbly the way it used to whenever she talked about her dad.  _ Really  _ talked about her dad, not just spewing the angry shit to get people to leave her alone.  

 

Spencer ot off of the bed, because some things couldn’t be done long distance, and walked over to stand in front of her. He took Ryan’s hand in his and looked her straight in the eyes and said, “if they’re transphobic dicks, we’ll just get Jon’s Chicago mob friends to kill them. Jon’ll understand, he’s in love with you.”

 

“Spencer, I’m being serious,” Ryan said. 

 

“So am I,” Spencer said. “Not about the whole killing thing, but I mean, if they’re assholes to you because you’re trans, then fuck them. Their opinion of you doesn’t matter, because in the end, you’re dating Jon, not his parents or his weird aunt from California or his grandparents who obsessively collect cans of soup because they only like soup. It’s just about you and Jon, in the end.”

 

“And any cats he finds,” Ryan added. She ducked back behind the door and closed it for a moment, and then reappeared in a skirt and sweater, complete with patterned tights and little heeled boots. Considering how Ryan usually dressed, it was a pretty good outfit. She leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom, looking down at Spencer. “He keeps sending me pictures of the stray cats he sees at work and asking if we can keep them.”

 

“Aren’t we not allowed pets in the apartment?” Spencer asked, because he was pretty sure he remembered Jon saying something about that on the day they moved in. 

 

“We’re not, but he found out that the people who live above us has a small dog, and now he’s convinced that we can get away with having a cat here because cats are small and quiet and no one will be looking for a cat, anyway,” Ryan said. A moment later, she stepped out from behind the door. She was dressed in a navy skirt, gold, shimmery, rose-patterned top (that Spencer had unfortunately seen before), and the ugliest pair of heels Spencer had seen in his life. But somehow, because Ryan Ross didn’t give a fuck about traditional fashion, she pulled it all off. She pinned a matching gold faux flower into her hair. “I wouldn’t mind having a cat, actually.”

 

“Seriously?” Spencer asked. “I thought you were a dog person.”

 

“I am, but that doesn’t mean I hate cats,” she said. She turned around, slowly. “Before I do my makeup, I look okay, right? Jon’s not going to regret taking me to meet his parents?”

 

“You look great,” Spencer said. He patted her shoulder because he knew better than to mess up Ryan’s hair. “Go put your face on.”

 

“You want anything?” she asked. Spencer shook his head. He had nothing against eyeliner, but it made his face look more feminine and Spencer was worried about passing in front of Linda’s parents enough already. Ryan shrugged at him. “Your loss then.”

 

Ryan and Jon were picked up about thirty minutes later, and then Spencer, Dallon, and Brendon all got in the Brobecks van and headed to the Ignarros’ house. It was a really nice house, and it was usually quiet when the band came over to practice. This time, however, when Dallon pulled up, the entire street was covered with cars and even though it was almost freezing, there were people all over the Ignarro’s yard. Spencer leaned between the two front seats. “She wasn’t kidding about if being very Italian.”

 

“Dude, I think I can smell lasagne, what the fuck?” Brendon said as they got out of the car. This whole thing was surreal. Spencer was used to Thanksgiving back in Las Vegas, where it was just him, his parents, his sisters, Ryan, and sometimes his mom’s parents. It was never a big event like this. 

 

“Should we have brought something?” Dallon asked. They were already at the gate leading up the Ignarro’s driveway, and Linda’s dad was waving at them from the porch. Dallon waved back. “I feel like we were supposed to bring something to eat.”

 

“Linda said to just show up,” Spencer said. He pushed open the gate and led the other two up to the house. A few people stopped them on the way up, asking them how they were all doing, what they were getting up to in their spare time, stuff like that. Spencer wondered if they realised that he, Brendon, and Dallon weren’t related to anyone here. Maybe it just didn’t matter. 

 

He found Linda in the living room, where she was fielding off questions about college. Spencer hadn’t even thought about where he would be going next year. He’d been too focused on work and the band and avoiding Brendon without making things too awkward. He figured he’d go somewhere in Chicago, so that he didn’t have to leave Ryan and the band behind. 

 

“Oh, and are these young men the ones we’ve been hearing so much about from your parents?” The lady talking to Linda said, smiling at Spencer with a red lipstick stained smile. She extended her hand, not waiting for an answer from Linda. “I’m Linda’s aunt Marie, from Maine. Easy to to remember. You three are in a band together, right? I’ve heard great things about you guys; do you have any music out yet?”

 

“Um,” Spencer said, because suddenly there were about seven people all staring at him and waiting for an answer, and he was very aware that his voice was too high and all of these people were wearing crosses around their necks. 

 

“We haven’t put anything out yet, but we’re working on a full album,” Dallon said. Thank God for Dallon, really. Dallon, who’d already been in a band that wasn’t really a band, and had already figured out the answers to people’s questions. “When we moved here, we couldn’t bring Spencer’s drum kit, so we can’t record anything yet and we’re trying to save up for a new one.”

 

“Can’t you just have someone send it up here?” Linda’s aunt asked. 

 

Dallon ran a hand through his hair. “Well, probably, but that’s also expensive, and since we’re originally from Vegas, there’s a really high risk of it getting broken on the way over here. Spencer didn’t want to risk it.”

 

“Oh, Las Vegas?” Another lady said. She was older than the first, but she’d tried to cover her greying hair with bright red hair dye. It kind of worked. Spencer gave her credit for that. “I used to be a Vegas Show girl, back when I was young and hadn’t found Jesus yet. Those were fun times, of course, but I couldn’t stay in that city too long. Too much sin going on there. I don’t think anyone can get through Las Vegas without a little bit of the devil getting under their skin.”

 

“Yeah, it’s one of those cities that tends to bring out the worst in people,” Dallon said. He didn’t look too happy about it, and Spencer wondered if he was thinking about himself or someone else. 

“Anyway!” Linda exclaimed, clapping her hands together and looking straight at Spencer in a way that said  _ let’s get the fuck out _ . “I’m going to check on the stuff in the kitchen. Guys, do you want to come with me?”

 

“Sure,” Spencer said, because he didn’t really want to stand around talking to Linda’s relatives. They weren’t horrible people, they just didn’t understand the idea of privacy. Dallon and Spencer followed her away from the aunts, but Brendon stayed. He said something about missing his family, and how Linda’s relatives reminded him of home. If that was true, Spencer felt bad for Brendon; Linda had too many relatives. 

 

Once they were all in the kitchen, Linda took off her heels and started walking around barefoot. “Heels are a pain, guys. You two are lucky.”

 

“I used to have to wear them, and they sucked,” Spencer said in agreement. 

 

Linda and Spencer both glanced over at Dallon. Spencer didn't think Dallon had ever worn heels, because Dallon was tall and, as far as Spencer could tell, didn’t think of himself in a feminine way. There was always a chance that Dallon had been in heels, though. Anything was possible at this point in Spencer’s life, especially when it came to Dallon and Brendon. 

 

Dallon shrugged. “I can’t relate, sorry.”

 

“Keep it that way,” Linda said, brandishing the mashed potato spoon at him. She looked over her shoulder at the clock on the oven. “Oh, hey, it’s about time for everyone to come inside. Fair warning, my family’s really Catholic, so there’s going to be about twenty or so minutes of praying before we all get in line and eat. Also, there’s an order for getting food. I don’t know where you three are going to end up in that, so you should probably ask one of my parents before all the praying starts.”

 

Almost as soon as Linda finished talking, people started flooding into the kitchen. There had to be over thirty people in the kitchen. They were all of different ages, and Spencer noticed that there was an old man wearing a priest’s collar near the doorway. Spencer nudged Linda and whispered, “who’s the priest guy?”

 

“Oh, that’s my great uncle,” Linda said. “He’s ordained. He works at a church in Milwaukee.”

 

“Cool,” Spencer said. He’d never known anyone who was related to a Catholic priest, probably because priests were supposed to be celibate and so it would be pretty hard to be related to a priest. 

 

It took a while, but eventually Linda’s parents and her great uncle got everyone to settle down. Linda’s great uncle crossed himself, and everyone else copied him. Spencer hadn’t been a real practicing Catholic in a while, but he did the cross anyway, watching Brendon and Dallon to make sure they didn't do anything weird. They didn’t cross themselves, but they both bowed their heads when Linda’s great uncle started to pray. 

 

It really did last about twenty minutes, and by the end, Spencer’s feet were starting to hurt from standing in one place for so long. He opened one eye during the middle of it and saw that Linda had taken her heels off again, but when he opened his eyes at the end of the prayer, she had them back on. It didn’t even look like she’d taken them off at all. 

 

“Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!” Linda’s father said. “Before we eat, I’d like to introduce everyone to our three guests, who are all friends of my daughter’s and are here today because they weren’t able to make it back to their own families in Las Vegas. Everyone, meet Brendon, Spencer, and Dallon.”

 

The three of them waved, and there was a moment where all of Linda’s relatives tried to introduce themselves at once. Linda’s dad cut them off, though, saying that they could all introduce themselves later, once everyone had food and a place to sit. 

 

Dallon, Spencer, and Brendon were told to get their food first, since they were guests. They did, a little awkwardly, because none of them were sure what was expected of them in the Ignarro’s household. There were three different tables set up around the house: one in the kitchen, one in the dining room, and then a third in a room off of the foyer that had a piano in the corner and a bunch of fancy chairs pushed into the corners. 

 

“The kids usually sit in the fancy living room,” Linda offered, when she noticed that the three guys were just standing around, not sure where to go. Spencer gave her a thumbs up, and then headed to the room with the piano. 

 

Linda joined them a bit later, along with about seven other cousins, all of whom were between the ages of thirteen and twenty-two. Linda’s two sisters were also there, but they weren’t sitting near Linda and were instead discussing something at the other end of the table. 

 

Linda rolled her eyes. “Sorry about my sisters. They’re all boy crazy for that Pete Wentz guy.”

 

“Holy shit, me too!” Brendon said, grinning. There was a moment of silence, because Linda’s cousins were also Catholic, which meant they thought like Catholics, and Brendon… was a guy. Brendon’s face went red and he ducked down a little in his seat. “Not like, not like that. I just meant that, like, he’s a big inspiration for the band. I’d love to meet him, you know? He’s a cool dude. He’s got a great stage presence.”

 

“I always thought that Pete Wentz was a little overrated,” Dallon said, which got the attention of Linda’s younger sisters. 

 

The older one gaped at Dallon. “Oh my gosh, you can’t just say that! Pete Wentz is super hot and Fall Out Boy is the best band ever!”

 

Somewhere, wherever Jon’s parents lived, Ryan was laughing her ass off and she didn’t even know why. Spencer wished she was here, because she’d be enjoying the shit out of this. Linda’s younger sisters launched into a speech about Pete Wentz and why he--and Fall Out Boy, but the girls seemed more interested in Pete Wentz--was the most influential artist of his time, and why Fall Out Boy was going to be the next big thing.

 

“They already are,” Spencer found himself saying. He coughed when he realised that everyone was looking at him and his voice had come out too high pitched. He swallowed and tried again, purposely lowering his voice this time. “I mean, Take This To Your Grave wasn’t, like, the biggest album that’s ever been released, but it got them out there. And Pete Wentz is pretty good with words, too. So he’s got that going for him, I guess.”

 

“See?” The older one said, putting her hands on her hips and staring Dallon down. “Your friend knows what he’s talking about. Pete Wentz and Fall Out Boy are going to be the biggest band of this generation, just you wait.”

 

* * *

 

**December 19, 2004; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Spencer, Dallon, and Ryan were huddled in the living room, working on the music. Dallon and Ryan had pens out, and were tossing Ryan’s notebook back and forth between the two of them. They had a lot of songs already written out, including the theoretical parts for all of them, but it was hard to put anything together and make a demo when Spencer couldn’t access the drum kit a lot and they couldn’t all schedule their lives to go up to the recording studio and try to practice there. 

 

It was frustrating. Spencer could see it in both Dallon and Ryan’s faces as they went over Time to Dance again and again. Spencer thought it was fine, but he wasn’t a songwriter and he’d never been in a band without Ryan, so he was the least qualified of the three of them to have an opinion. 

 

Ryan dropped her pen on top of the notebook. “This isn’t working.”

 

“Maybe you two should just leave it alone for a bit?” Spencer suggested. Ryan was right: it wasn’t working. Either it was because Dallon and Ryan weren’t meant to write the song, or because they’d been working on it too long. The entire album, which sounded good in rehearsals even though they didn’t have drums, needed a break. Spencer reached out for the notebook, slowly in case Ryan didn’t want him to touch it, and closed it. He set it up on the couch, where they’ all been sitting originally until someone suggested the floor. “We can just hang out. Talk about whatever, vent about how shitty life gets, you know. What normal people do.”

 

“Are you saying we’re not normal?” Ryan raised an eyebrow, a tiny smile on her face. 

 

“I’m saying that maybe we’re working too hard on all of this,” Spencer said. “The five of us are going to make it as a band, I believe that, but I don’t want you two to tire yourselves out because you have this wild idea that we have to get the album out before Brendon and I are done with high school. We’re going to be in Chicago for a while, since you and Jon are both in college, so there’s no rush to finish before we have to pick up and move again.”

 

“So, if we’re banned from talking about the band, what do you want to talk about?” Dallon asked. He leaned back against the couch, stretching his limbs out like he’d just been confined to a small space. 

 

“I don’t know,” Spencer said, picking at the carpet. It was nice carpet, considering this was an apartment near a college, and it had probably seen countless parties. “What have you guys been up to? I feel like I barely see either of you, which sucks, because you’re my best friend, Ryan, and Dallon’s pretty cool too.”

 

“Thanks, you really inspire confidence in a person,” Dallon said. Spencer looked up from the carpet in time to see him exchanging a look with Ryan. Spencer wondered how much they’d been bonding, because they were both really comfortable around each other. Dallon swept his hand through his hair. “But, uh, Ryan and I haven’t been up to much except music stuff. We’re all kind of boring right now.”

 

“Linda and I finally got the green light for the gay straight alliance club,” Spencer said. 

 

“You’re really doing that?” Ryan deadpanned at him. “Spence, you’re about to graduate. Why does it even matter?”

 

“Because it would be nice for other gay kids not to have to hide and be alone in high school?” Spencer said. He knew that Ryan thought the gay straight alliance was a bad idea, because she was afraid that it would put a target on people’s backs and essentially force them to come out. Spencer was more optimistic, and also he didn’t want to let Linda down. She hadn’t even told her parents. They thought she was working on an international club. Or something. Spencer wasn’t really sure.

 

“I would have liked gay friends in high school,” Dallon said. “It’s not a bad idea. I’m guessing it’ll include people who aren’t cis, too?”

 

“Yep,” Spencer said. “I don’t know if there are going to be a lot of people there who are trans, though. I feel like Ryan and I are the only two people who figured out our gender before we became adults. But you never know. There could be someone else out there who’s trans or whatever.”

 

Ryan and Dallon exchange a look again. Spencer crossed his arms over his chest. “Okay, seriously, what are you two not telling me?”

 

“I’m non-binary,” Dallon blurted out, and his face immediately turned red and he curled in on himself a little. Dallon was in a room with only transgender people, coming out as one of them, and he was still scared. Spencer knew that Breezy’s death had really affected Dallon, because they’d been best friends and Spencer knew he’d be distraught if something like that happened to Ryan, but it was stuff like this that reminded him of all the things that had led to Breezy’s death. It wasn’t just an accident, or some hate crime. It was Breezy never feeling like she belonged, or that things could get better, or that she’d come off as anything but  _ different _ . 

 

Spencer had his arms around Dallon and was hugging him before he realised what he was doing. Ryan was right behind him, tucking Dallon’s head under her chin. Spencer squeezed him tightly. “It’s okay. That doesn’t change anything, okay? You’re still our friend and you’re still in our band and you don’t… you’re still our Dallon.”

 

“And we love you,” Ryan said, side-eyeing Spencer through her bangs. 

 

Spencer nodded. “And we love you.”

 

“Thanks, guys,” Dallon said. He was shaking a little, under Spencer and Ryan. Spencer couldn’t tell if he was crying or not. Spencer hoped he wasn’t. He wasn’t good at dealing with crying people, unless it was Ryan because there wasn’t a single version of Ryan in the world that Spencer couldn’t handle. He wiggled out from under the two of them, but they never really pulled apart and instead regrouped up on the couch. Dallon had his legs up to his chest and Ryan and Spencer were on either side of him. “I’d already told Ryan, earlier, but I wasn’t ready to come out. I just couldn’t tell her about Breezy and why I was so cautious about everything without explaining who I was, too.”

 

“It’s okay,” Spencer said, thinking about those months where Ryan had been in the closet to everyone except Spencer and his immediate family, and how her hands used to shake when they went to the drugstore together to look at makeup for her. Like she was afraid that someone else would know. “You don’t have to come out to anyone you don’t want to.”

 

“If we’re going to be a band, we probably won’t have that choice,” Dallon said. He swallowed. “But I need to be comfortable with who I am. I don’t… I’m tired of people thinking there’s something wrong with them just because they don’t know anyone else who’s gay or trans or whatever. I’m doing this for me, obviously, but I’m doing it for everyone else too.”

 

“Dallon and I want the band to be out about our sexualities and genders and stuff,” Ryan said. “We’re not going to change the music or the sound or anything, but we’re not going to pretend to be cis or straight. If you’re okay with that.”

 

“I’m not really worried about myself,” Spencer said. “If people have problems with the band, it’ll be mostly with you and Dallon. But I’m on board, and I think it’s a good idea. It’s more than anyone else’ll do.”

 

“Sweet,” Ryan grinned. 

 

“So, like, since you’re non-binary, what does that mean?” Spencer asked, turning to Dallon. He had a basic idea of what a non-binary person was--that they weren’t a guy or a girl but where somewhere in between--but he didn’t know what that made Dallon, or if Dallon wasn’t changing at all and he was just updating Ryan and Spencer on his gender.

 

“Well, I’d like to start using gender neutral pronouns, not in public yet, but when it’s just us,” Dallon said. “And, I don’t hate it when people use masculine terms to describe me, but it’s not my favourite?”

 

“So, I shouldn’t call you dude?” Spencer asked. 

 

Dallon laughed. “No, that’s fine. You call Ryan dude, and she’s not a guy.”

 

“Well, I’m also his best friend and it was never an issue of gender,” Ryan said. “But it’s up to you, Dallon. It’s your gender.”

 

“It’s fine,” Dallon said. They looked more relaxed now. They looked more relaxed than they’d been before they even came out to Spencer, which made Spencer think that Dallon coming out was a good thing. They had people who would support them, and now that they were away from their parents (and would be for a while), there wasn’t anyone directly linked to them who was an asshole. It was the closest thing Dallon (and the others) could get to a stress-free environment. 

 

* * *

 

**December 27th, 2004; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

“There’s a message here from the landlord,” Spencer said as Ryan entered the kitchen that morning. She looked like she’d just gotten out of bed, and there was a hickey on her neck, so she probably hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep the previous night. Spencer hopped off of the kitchen counter and grabbed his coffee cup. “Apparently there’s a package for us, but it’s really big and so it’s just sitting in the office.”

 

“What the fuck?” Ryan asked. “Did you order anything?”

 

“Nope,” Spencer said. “I have no idea what if could be but apparently they want us to get it as soon as possible.”

 

“Let me put on pants or something,” Ryan said. She yawned from behind her coffee. “It’s too early for this. Also, Christmas was literally two days ago, so this is just… not festive and gross. Are they unaware that there are a bunch of scrawny people living in this apartment?”

 

“Jon and Dallon aren’t scrawny,” Spencer rolled his eyes. Jon and Dallon were also not in the room at the moment, so it didn’t really matter. Jon was probably still asleep, and Dallon was back at their job after getting Christmas and the day after off. 

 

“Jon’s short,” Ryan said. “I love him, but he is.”

 

“Would you love him more or less if he was tall?” Spencer asked. 

 

“I’ve never really thought about it,” Ryan said, and then handed her coffee back to Spencer even though it was still half full. She disappeared back to her and Jon’s bedroom, and then reappeared a few minutes later fully dressed but still looking tired. She stared at Spencer for a moment, because he was still leaning against the counter and sipping his coffee. “Dude. We have a package?”

 

“They’re not going to set it on fire if we don’t go retrieve it in the next five minutes,” Spencer said. He drank the rest of his coffee anyway, making a face at it because it was a little too bitter at the end. Spencer retreated to his room, grabbed jeans, his binder, and a clean smelling hoodie and got changed, and then joined Ryan back in the kitchen so that they could head down to the office at the bottom of the apartment building. 

 

When they got there, it was pretty obvious which package was for their apartment. It was actually multiple packages, but all of them were large and they were all stacked around each other, in a little pile behind the desk. 

 

The secretary looked up at Spencer and Ryan. “Are you two from room 17?”

 

“Yep,” Ryan said. She motioned to the boxes. “Are all of those for us?”

 

“They are. Do you want some help carrying them all up?”

 

“Um,” Ryan looked at Spencer. Spencer wouldn’t mind the help, because he had no idea how heavy the boxes were, just that they were large and there were at least five of them. Ryan turned back to the secretary. “Yes, actually. I didn’t realise that there were going to be so many.”

 

“Alright, one moment,” she said. Ryan and Spencer loitered around the desk while the secretary disappeared into the back room to get someone to help them get everything up the stairs. She came back out with an angry looking man who had an impressive beard and faded tattoos on his arms and neck (the rest of him was covered with clothes). He grabbed one of the boxes and motioned for Spencer and Ryan to do the same. 

 

“We’ll hold the others for you, don’t worry,” the secretary said, and then waved Spencer, Ryan, and the bearded tattooed guy off. They worked in silence, partially because Ryan and Spencer were intimidated and partially because neither of them could think of anything to say. Ryan opened the door to the apartment and instructed the guy to just drop the boxes off inside the door, and then they repeated the process again with the other boxes. 

 

The guy left Ryan and Spencer alone at their apartment after all of the boxes were up there. Spencer adjusted his grip on the box. “Do you have any idea what these are?”

 

“Christmas presents?” Ryan suggested as she tried to retrieve the key from the depths of her skinny jean pocket. 

 

“From who, though?” Spencer asked. “Because Jon’s parents already gave you and Jon stuff, and my mom and dad’s presents for all of us came in on the twenty-third. I’m pretty sure that Brendon and Dallon’s parents aren’t going to be sending us anything, ever.”

 

“Then I have no idea,” Ryan said. She got the key out and stuck it into the keyhole, opening the door and then kicking it open so she and Spencer could get in. The boxes had been moved away from the door to the living area where Jon and Brendon were sitting on the floor and staring them down. Ryan stood over the two of them with the box resting against her hip. “Do either of you want to go grab the last box so we can open these suckers?”

 

“Yep, sure!” Brendon said, hopping up off the floor and jumping over the couch to run to the door. He almost knocked Spencer over, and Spencer glared at him for a good moment before walking over to Jon and setting the box down. 

 

Jo had a pair of scissors in his hands, and he was spinning them around in his hand. “They’ve got a Las Vegas return address on them.”

 

“Wait, what’s the address?” Spencer asked, carefully leaning around Jon to see for himself. His eyes widened when he realised that the address on the box was his own. Technically, his parents’ address. Spencer turned back around to Jon. “Dude, hand me the scissors. They’re from my parents.”

 

“Don’t you want all of the boxes?”

 

“We’ll figure it out,” Spencer said, wiggling his fingers at the scissors. “I want to see what this is.”

 

“Alright,” Jon said, and handed the scissors over to Spencer. Brendon appeared with the final box, setting it down away from Spencer. They’d been even more awkward after Brendon’s girlfriend dumped him at the end of the semester. Apparently, Brendon had told her that he was in a band (which was true) and she’d started dating him because she thought that the band was going to get big immediately and she’d get to ride off of the fame. It was shitty, really, but it only made Brendon and Spencer’s relationship worse. 

 

Ryan poked Spencer with her foot. “Are you going to open it?”

 

“You know what it is,” Spencer said, pointing the scissor handles at her. Ryan just smiled and directed Spencer’s hand towards the box. Spencer flipped the scissors open and cut open the box, pulling the wings back and pulling out packing peanuts. His eyes widened when he saw what was in there. “Holy shit. Ryan holy shit. This is… this is my drum kit?”

 

“Yeah,” Ryan said. “I called your parents a few weeks ago and told them that I’d been saving up money to ship your drum kit over here so we wouldn’t have to buy you a new one.”

 

Spencer set the box down gently, because he didn’t want to hurt his drums, and then launched himself at Ryan, pulling her into a hug. He had drums again. He and Jon didn’t have to drive out to the studio just so Spencer could practice, and the band would finally be able to go over stuff together and get stuff recorded. It didn’t matter if they were recording out of the Ignarros’ garage. Any recording was better than no recording. 

 

“This is the best thing ever,” Spencer said. He and Ryan were still hugging. He leaned his head back to look at Jon. “Did you guys know about this, or was Ryan being sneaky?”

 

“Ryan was being sneaky, but I picked up on it,” Jon said, and winked at Ryan. She winked back, because the two of them were obnoxiously in love with each other. It was gross but adorable. 

 

“You know what this means, right?” Spencer said. He couldn’t stop grinning. It was like a Christmas part two. “We can actually get shit done. We can finally record a fucking album.”

 

“So, uh,” Jon said, rubbing the back of his neck. “This might be a bit pre-emptive but I think you guys should know where I’ve been working since last April. I’m a bass tech, for a few bands around the Chicago-Milwaukee area, and I’ve gotten to know a lot of the guys and basically I know Fall Out Boy and there’s a slim chance that I could maybe convince Pete Wentz to get us signed. Maybe.”

  
“We’re doing it,” Ryan said. Spencer knew she was serious. It didn’t matter how impractical it would be to get Pete Wentz to sign them, because Ryan was going to make it happen. She had a plan. Spencer trusted her to make it happen. This was their band, and they were making it happen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd also like to add that it's midnight and I've just recovered from the flu and a bunch of school related anxiety, so I'm fucking tired. Take any of my authors notes with a grain of salt, but...
> 
> If you enjoyed it, please leave a comment/kudos! They really do make my day, and I like talking to youse guys!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer and Ryan, in unison: *deep breath* B O I !!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has.... a Lot going on. There's a lot of roasting, gay shenanigans, and Ryan Ross being incredible while Boss Ass Bitch plays quietly in the background.
> 
> Also, the band finally gets a name.

**January 17th, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Spencer didn’t know why he thought this would be a good idea. Technically, it wasn’t his idea, but Linda’s but he’d supported her and helped her, and because of that, he was the VP of Kenwood Academy High School’s first ever Gay Straight Alliance. And it was about to start, in less than five minutes. 

 

Spencer and Linda were standing at the front of the classroom, staring at all of the science table desks that had been arranged in rows. There were a surprising amount of kids there, more than Spencer had expected. He had thought that it would be him, Linda, Brendon, and maybe a handful of straight girls who were hoping for a gay best friend, but there were actual gay people here. 

 

“Well,” Linda said quietly. She looked about as nervous as Spencer felt. “At least they look terrified too. We’re not the only ones out of our league.”

 

“Brendon’s having the time of his life,” Spencer said. Up here, he was reminded why he liked the drums. They were a physical shield from any audience. It was a barrier, and Spencer missed his barrier. “Looks like he’s already found a friend.”

 

Sure enough, Brendon was chatting with some guy that Spencer had never seen before. The guy also had fringe, but he’d dyed red streaks into his honey blonde hair and he looked like a weird cosplay of someone’s condiments lovechild. Spencer wasn’t bitter. Really. Spencer had never been bitter in his life. He folded his arms over his chest and acted like he didn’t care about Brendon Urie. 

 

Linda laughed. “You’re really bad at hiding it.”

 

“Can you pretend that I’m not?” Spencer asked. Linda shook her head, and Spencer sighed. “Fine. Are you ready to start this?”

 

“Not really, but we’re stuck here now,” Linda said. She loudly cleared her throat, getting some people’s attention, and they got everyone else to quiet down and settle into chairs for a moment. Linda introduced herself and Spencer, including their pronouns because Spencer had asked her to make sure that pronouns were included so that no one would call him a girl. It happened sometimes. 

 

The meeting was stressful, because neither of them really knew what they were doing and the teacher who was supposed to be watching over them wasn’t paying them any attention. Linda and Spencer were on their own. They managed it, though, and an hour and a half later, the meeting ended and people started to file out. A few of them came up to Spencer and Linda to thank them for making the GSA. One of them was a straight girl. 

 

“I think this is great, because a lot of gay people don’t feel loved, you know,” she said. She was dressed in a polo shirt. It was light pink. She had a winter coat over her arm. “I’m just wondering, though, are you two planning to get any gay guys involved in running this? Because there weren’t a lot of them here and I think that it might because they don’t see themselves represented.”

 

“Brendon’s a pretty gay guy,” Spencer pointed to Brendon, who was still hanging out with the same guy from before. At the same time, Linda said, “Spencer’s a gay guy.”

 

The girl shook her head. “No, I meant like a real gay guy.”

 

Spencer rolled his eyes. This was just exhausting. Beside him, Linda curled and uncurled her fists, like she was weighing the options of bitch-slapping this girl or not. Spencer patted her on the shoulder. “Go for it. We don’t really want transphobic people here anyway.”

 

“Sweet,” Linda said through gritted teeth. She backhanded the girl, and it was a loud, resounding smack. The teacher still didn’t look up, but Spencer heard her stifle a snort. Brendon and his new friend were staring at Linda with wide eyes. The girl brought her hand up to her face, glaring at Linda. “You bitch! What was that for!”

 

“Spencer’s a real guy, just like that was a real slap,” Linda said simply. “Just because he’s trans, doesn’t mean he doesn’t count.”

 

“If you’re going to be exclusionary, you’re never going to get any allies,” she warned. 

 

Spencer shrugged, thinking about his own parents and how they’d been willing to listen when they were called out on being ignorant. He thought about the girls who were only interested in Ryan because they thought she was a gay guy. He thought about how those same girls refused to change in the same locker room as Spencer because they thought he was a gross, creepy lesbian, even though he and Ryan were both bisexual and neither of them wanted to creep on people while they changed. He narrowed his eyes at the girl. “No, we will, because genuinely accepting people are going to come here to be supportive. People who just think gays are cool or interesting, or just want a gay best friend? We don’t want them. They’re gross. They can leave.”

 

The girl rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’ll find gay friends on my own.”

 

“Good luck!” Linda shouted as she left the room. She smiled, looking proud of herself (Spencer was also proud of her) and headed back to where she and Spencer had dropped their stuff at the back of the room. There were still a significant number of people (more like six, including Brendon) left, and they were all watching Linda warily. She’d just announced, without having to use her words, that nonsense would be dealt with by a swift backhand to the face. It was kind of awesome.

 

Spencer followed her back there, because he needed to grab his backpack too, and also text Dallon to see if they could pick him and Brendon up from school. If Dallon was still at work or out doing something (or didn’t have the Brobecks van), then Spencer and Brendon could just take a bus home. It was cold, though, and there was a lot of snow, so Spencer didn’t want to have to take the bus. 

 

Brendon turned around and pulled on the sleeve of Spencer’s hoodie. “Hey, Spence, when you text Dallon, tell him I don’t need a ride.”

 

“What?” Spencer said. “How’re you going to get home?”

 

“Derek’s taking me,” Brendon said, pointing to the guy he’d been talking to and laughing with the whole meeting. Derek waved at Spencer, like he didn’t realise that Spencer and Brendon had once been together (kind of) and that Spencer knew Brendon more than Derek ever would. Probably. Spencer was also being ridiculous, because he and Brendon had never been official and so it shouldn’t have mattered at all. 

 

“Oh, cool,” Spencer said. It wasn’t cool. 

 

“Yeah, we hit it off and wanted to hang out more, so we’re gonna go to that new coffee bakery thing that opened up over the break,” Brendon said. He looked way too excited. Spencer really needed to get over Brendon. Brendon had obviously moved on.

 

Derek leaned in, closer to Brendon but also so that the four of them (Spencer, Brendon, Linda, Derek) were secluded from the rest of the room. “You two can come too, if you want. It’s not, like, exclusive or anything.”

 

“I’m actually going over to Spencer’s house to study with him, but thanks for the offer,” Linda said. Her voice was just as sharp and clipped as it had been with the girl earlier. Derek and Brendon backed off, and Spencer said he’d tell Dallon not to wait for Brendon. 

 

_ i’m bringing linda tho… not in a straight way _ , Spencer added on as an afterthought. He knew that Dallon wouldn’t care. Dallon liked Linda, and the two got along well as friends. Dallon responded a minute later, saying they were fine with it as long as Linda’s parents could pick her up later, which Spencer knew they could. Her mom was high enough in the company she worked for that she could work from home and make her own hours. It was pretty impressive. 

 

* * *

 

Linda and Spencer were in Spencer’s room, and they were actually working on school stuff. They were also talking about things that had nothing to do with school (or Derek) until Linda dropped her pencil down and said, “Spencer, don’t take this the wrong way but you have really shitty taste in guys.”

 

Spencer frowned. “Why?”

 

“Brendon’s just throwing it in your face that he’s got a new crush, and that he’s practically dating the guy even though they just met,” she said. She shook her head, her hair whooshing back and forth. “It’s just rude. Like, it’d be one thing if he was excited and talking to Ryan or Jon about it, but you’re his ex! Even though you two never put a label on it, it still counts as something!”

 

She was right, but Spencer didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t want to admit that things weren’t that great with him and Brendon, because they weren’t bad. They were just awkward, and everyone knew it. “It’s not that big of a deal. I mean, I miss him, obviously, but it’s in the past and I’m not going to try and change it. I’m just glad it’s not causing any issues for the band.”

 

“Do you think the two of you should sit down and actually talk about it, or is it better to just move on?” Linda asked. 

 

“I have no idea,” Spencer said. “Even if we do, it’s not going to change that I still like him. And I don’t want Brendon to think he can’t be happy with someone else. His parents were pretty shitty about that. It’s kind of why he’s here.”

 

Spencer didn’t mention Breezy, or how Brendon had run away from home after his relationship with Dallon ended. It was too personal, like showing someone old scars or a diary from when he was eleven and in love with most of the people on TV. He trusted Linda, and they were friends, but it was pretty obvious that Linda and Brendon weren’t super close, and Spencer didn’t know if it was right to unload all of Dallon’s baggage without their permission. 

 

Linda nodded, and tucked her hair behind her ear. She was pretty, if Spencer was going to be honest. But she’d made it very clear that she only liked girls, and Spencer wasn’t going to try anything with her. He was a guy. She thought of him as a guy. She turned a page in her textbook. “My parents aren’t that accepting either. I haven’t told them or anything, but I mentioned the school having a GSA and they got all quiet. You know how parents get quiet when you start talking about something they don’t approve of, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Spencer said. He could picture his mom’s face, the first time Spencer tried to get her to let him have a party at their house. “You can always hang out here, if your parents are being dicks. Dallon’s the closest thing we have to a parent, and th--he’s pretty chill about stuff.”

 

Spencer had almost slipped up and outed Dallon. They weren’t ready to come out yet, and Spencer was trying his best to not mess up. Dallon wasn’t out to Jon or Brendon yet, just Ryan and Spencer. Spencer was pretty sure that they were out to him and Ryan because he and Ryan were trans and Dallon knew that they’d be accepted. 

 

“Thanks,” Linda smiled. “But it's not that bad. I'll just have to wait until I'm out of the house to come out, you know? It could be a lot worse.”

 

* * *

 

**January 29, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Spencer had taken the extra shift that Saturday because he wanted to get out of the apartment for a while. Derek and Brendon were now a couple (boyfriends, specifically) and Brendon was completely lovestruck by the guy. Derek could do no wrong in Brendon's eyes, and Derek was always picking Brendon up (he had a car; it was shiny and black and the top rolled down) and taking him to and from work. 

 

Derek was also always in and out of the apartment, and he and Brendon were kissing all the time. Spencer was just glad that heal wasn't the only one tired of it all, but he was the only one who had to deal with the sinking feeling of regret deep in his stomach every time he saw the two of them being all cute together. 

 

So Spencer was working. It wasn't a bad shift; Jane was the manager on staff and she was super cool. She put on Fall Out Boy when Spencer asked, and Spencer was excited that she knew who they were. 

 

Jane rolled her eyes and laughed. “Dude, Joe’s mom lives down the street from my parents. It's not that big of a deal.”

 

“When they get super famous, you should mention that,” Spencer said. 

 

“Should I also mention that one time Joe pissed in the neighbourhood pool and then blamed it on one of the other kids?” Jane asked. Spencer nodded in agreement, because that would just be hilarious. Jane started telling Spencer stories about growing up in the same area as Joe Trohman (which was probably the coolest backstory ever, really), and the shift went by quickly. 

 

Then Dickface McGee came in. Spencer had only heard of Dickface McGee up until that day, but he knew that most of the people who worked in the store hated him. They couldn't kick him out, though, because his parents were rich and gave him money that he would then spend on comics and gaming stuff. For the sake of capitalism, they had to let Dickface continue to exist in their presence. 

 

Dickface was an average looking guy. He was taller than Ryan, with thinning mousy brown hair and glasses. He also had a beard, and wore suit jackets over his t-shirts no matter what the weather was like. He was also sweating a lot under his armpits. He looked at Jane and Spencer, who were the only two people in the front of the store--one of the part time employees was in the back, unloading and organising the overstock--and shook his head. He smiled, and it was the most unnerving thing Spencer had seen. “What are two pretty girls like you doing in a place like this? Or have I stumbled upon two dames with a love for the nerdy and obscure?”

 

“Spencer’s sixteen,” Jane commented. “And he's a boy. But we've both been working here for a while, so if there's anything you need help looking for, just let one of us know.”

 

Spencer appreciated her diplomacy. He would have just rolled his eyes and told Dickface McGee where to shove it. 

 

Dickface McGee just smiled and tipped an invisible hat at Jane. “Alright, miss. But I've been a fan of this stuff since I was a kid. I could probably tell you more than you'd ever care to know about comics.”

 

Somewhere, Linda was gearing up for a rant about guys thinking they were always smarter than girls and she didn't know why. Spencer would text her, later, and relay everything that happened. Linda would probably hunt Dickface McGee down herself and fight him in real life. 

 

Dickface McGee meandered the store while Spencer and Jane attended to the other customers. Jane was watching Dickface out of the corner of her eye, for some reason. Spencer had to focus on the register, because he was trying to check out a group of greasy haired middle school boys and one of their dads, and the dad was annoyed and impatient. After they were gone, and the dad had snatched the receipt from Spencer's hands without so much as a “thank you,” Spencer could turn his attention back to Jane and Dickface McGee. 

 

And then he realised why Dickface McGee was only known as Dickface McGee. There was a girl, dressed in a long sleeved t-shirt and a furry winter jacket, and she was obviously new to comics. She was just standing in front of the Marvel section, tapping her fingers against her lips, when Dickface McGee came up and stood awkwardly close to her. From this angle, Spencer could see that he was clearly looking down the girl’s shirt. The girl couldn't be much older than Spencer--who was seventeen even though Jane had forgotten. Which meant that Dickface McGee, who was almost thirty, was a Grade A creep. 

 

He then proceeded to tell her about comics. He did know a lot, so he hadn't been lying earlier, but he was clearly making the girl uncomfortable. She crossed her arms over her chest (a mistake, because it pushed her boobs up) and lowered her gaze, but she didn't walk away. 

 

Spencer made eye contact with Jane. She nodded, and moved over to the girl. She put on a smile and said, “hi, I'm Jane! Anything I can help you find today?”

 

“Oh, don't worry, I've been helping this young lady out with her first adventure into comics,” Dickface McGee said, waving Jane off. 

 

Jane didn't leave. She addressed the girl again. “Is there anything in comics you're interested in?”

 

The girl nodded. “Um, girl heroes? I know about Wonder Woman, my mom was a fan, but I'm not really interested in that.”

 

“I can show you some great female-led comics,” Jane said, motioning towards the other side of the store. “They're not super mainstream, though. Is that going to be okay?”

 

The girl nodded. Spencer relaxed as Jane got her away from Dickface McGee. Crisis averted. Dickface McGee shook his head and came towards the counter, holding a stack of comics under his arm. The part that had been pressed into his armpit was damp and smelled bad. Spencer avoided touching it as he rang the guy up. He looked up at Dickface McGee. “You find everything okay?”

 

“Can you believe that? Listen, you need to tell your coworker to lay off of me,” he said. Spencer mentally took a deep breath and tried not to make too much of a bitch face. Dickface McGee didn’t notice anything, and just kept talking. “See, she’s got this weird crush on my, but she’s a little too old,” Jane was twenty three and had been out of college for less than a year, “I’ve tried telling her I’m not interested, but you know how ladies get when you have to turn them down. I was just having a nice conversation with that lady, we were getting along swell, and then your coworker had to get in the way with her silly crush.”

 

“I don’t think Jane has a crush on you,” Spencer said, keeping his voice as deep as he could. 

 

Dickface McGee made a weird laughing noise. It was pretty condescending. “You’re new here, aren’t you? No, see, Jane is infatuated with me, and really, I’m flattered, but she’s not the first lady to throw herself at me. I’m just not interested in someone as old as her. She’d be demanding babies by the third date, and I’m not interested in that. I’m a free man. You get that, right? Gotta keep myself open for any ladies to come by.”

 

Spencer just nodded and rang the rest of his things up. He was tired of hearing this guy speak. Dickface McGee kept talking to Spencer, though, about women and being attracted to them. Spencer was not straight or cis enough for any of this. 

 

He realised that Dickface McGee kept looking around as he talked, and he was always looking over to where Jane and the girl were standing. Jane was also watching Dickface McGee, but her eyes were slightly narrowed and she looked impatient. Like she was waiting for him to leave. The girl also looked nervous. Spencer realised that the two girls were waiting for Dickface McGee to leave the store before they came over to the counter, and Dickface McGee was waiting for the girl to come to the counter so that he could continue being creepy.

 

Spencer took a deep breath and stood up, trying to make himself taller. “Sir, I’ve finished checking you out. We don’t allow loitering, so please leave the store unless you would like me to have you escorted out.”

 

Spencer had no idea if he could even do that, but he figured he could bullshit his way out if he needed to. Jane would back him up. 

 

“I’m just waiting on her, dude,” Dickface McGee said, pointing at the girl. “I wasn’t done talking to her, and your coworker rudely interrupted us.”

 

“She was pretty much done talking to you, though,” Spencer said. “And my  _ coworker  _ is actually my  _ manager _ , in case you were about to use the famous ‘let me talk to your manager’ line on me.”

 

Dickface McGee stared at Spencer like he couldn't believe what Spencer was saying to him. Spencer didn't back away. He stared back up at Dickface McGee, one eyebrow slightly arched, waiting for the man’s response. Below the counter, though, Spencer was clenching his fist. He didn't know if he was scared or angry or both, but he was definitely feeling something. 

 

Dickface McGee shook his head. “I can’t believe it. I’m a nice guy, and I was just trying to help a newcomer out. But once again, nerds like me will always be ostracised by people of power like you. Sigh,”  _ he actually said sigh out loud, what the fuck, _ “I would have hoped for better, but I can see now that you are not like me, You’ve never felt the pains of being an outcast, otherwise you would have been on my side and understood my struggles. I suppose I must leave this humble establishment, and search elsewhere to fulfill my needs.”

 

He stared at Spencer again. He was waiting for Spencer to apologise. Internally, Spencer imagined a scene where he told Dickface McGee to shut the fuck up, because he obviously didn’t know shit about suffering. Externally, he put on a fake smile and said, “okay, have a nice day then!”

 

“You’re not going to apologise for how you’ve treated me?” Dickface McGee said. 

 

Spencer shook his head. “No. I’m sorry you think we’ve done something wrong, but I’m just following company policy. We don’t tolerate solicitors. If you’re not here to buy something or looking to buy something, you’re just crowding up the store, and we have the right to make you leave. That’s just how life is, dude. Sometimes it’s not in your favour.”

 

Dickface McGee’s face went red and it looked like he was about to start yelling at Spencer. Spencer prepared for the worst, but nothing happened. Dickface McGee just snatched his bag of comics from the counter and stormed out. He attempted to slam the door behind him, but it was one of those doors that closed slowly and so he ended up leaving quietly and embarrassing himself. A few moments later, the girl he’d been bothering came up to the counter holding a comic book for a girl hero that Spencer didn’t recognise. 

 

Spencer smiled at her. “Sorry about that.”

 

“No, that was actually really cool, the way you shut him down like that,” she said. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I never know what to do when guys are creepy. I’m only sixteen, I shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

 

“I know, right?” Spencer said. “Old guys are so gross sometimes.”

 

“You’re pretty okay, though,” she said. “I’ll probably come back here. Just, not on the weekends if that guy’s gonna be here.”

 

“Well, hopefully I scared him away,” Spencer said.  _ And hopefully no one will yell at me for getting rid of a returning customer _ . He handed the girl her receipt and wished her a good day. Once she was gone, Jane gave him a high five. So it wasn’t that bad of a day after all.

 

* * *

 

**January 30, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Spencer, Ryan, Dallon, Brendon, and (unfortunately) Derek were standing outside a venue in downtown Chicago, shivering in the cold and occasionally catching snowflakes on their tongues. Fall Out Boy was inside the venue, Jon was working as a tech for them, and he’d invited them (and Derek, because it was hard to say no to Brendon apparently) to come to the show. 

 

Spencer was pretty sure his feet were going to freeze and fall off if they didn’t go in soon. He pulled Dallon and Ryan closer, because they were taller and warmer. “Are the doors going to open or did Jon invite us here so that we could freeze and die?”

 

“Jon wouldn’t kill us like that,” Ryan said. 

 

Dallon frowned, looking down at Ryan. “You know how your boyfriend would kill us?”

 

“Listen, if Jon was going to kill all of us, he’d make it quick but he’d also make it look like an accident. It’d probably involve messing with the brakes on the van or something, so that we’d slide into a pole or whatever,” Ryan said. Spencer rolled his eyes. Ryan had this weird fear of dying in a car accident. It was why she was such a paranoid driver. 

 

Dallon shook their head, and took their hand out of their pocket to pull their hat further down over their ears. “I’m never driving again.”

 

“Ryan has a phobia of car crashes,” Spencer said. He didn’t want Dallon to give up driving just because of that. “Ignore her.”

 

“Fuck you, Spencer,” Ryan said, and then shivered violently. 

 

Luckily, the doors opened a few minutes later, and everyone made their way into the building. Ryan led the others to the stage, saying that Jon would let them throw their coats and hats backstage. It was a lot safer than just throwing them into a corner and hoping that no one would steal them. Jon appeared from backstage and kissed Ryan before taking her coat from her and draping it over his arm. He looked past Ryan to the others. “You guys wanna come backstage before the show?”

 

“You’re not taking our jackets?” Brendon said, grinning. 

 

“You’re not my girlfriend,” Jon said. 

 

Brendon nodded. “Okay, good point.”

 

The five of them followed Jon to the backstage area. Spencer and Ryan had seen Fall Out Boy before, two summers ago in Denver. Spencer’s mom had drive them there, after Spencer had begged her to take them because he knew that Ryan was going to go whether Spencer’s mom wanted them to or not. Ryan had already seen Fall Out Boy before she and Spencer went together. She’d gone with some of her other friends, also to Denver, and then followed them all the way up to Minneapolis. They’d been unofficial groupies for about two weeks before the school called Ryan’s dad and then Ryan got in a lot of trouble.

 

Spencer didn’t want Ryan to get in trouble with her dad again. That was why he made his mom take them. 

 

Pete Wentz ran past them, suddenly. He had a skateboard under his arm. Spencer wasn’t even surprised. Dallon was. They pointed in the direction that Pete had disappeared to. “Is that normal? Is he going skating?”

 

“Nah, he probably just stole it from someone,” Jon said. He was hanging people’s coats up, and he reached out of the tiny storage closet for the next person’s jacket. “He’ll give it back eventually. Whoever it belongs to will probably thank him anyway. Fall Out Boy fans are weird.”

 

“I’m a Fall Out Boy Fan,” Ryan said. 

 

Jon winked. “I know.”

 

They didn’t get a chance to meet Pete or any of the other Fall Out Boy guys before the show started, and Jon actually had to kick them all out so that he could do his job. He promised that they’d all get to hang out with the band after the show, though. Ryan kissed him a final time and then she and Spencer gently pushed their way into the crowd. Spencer glanced over his shoulder as he and Ryan became one with the pit. He could see Dallon, tall and awkward and looming over everyone, but Brendon and Derek had disappeared.

 

Spencer rolled his eyes. Whatever. If they wanted to make out in the bathrooms instead of jamming to Fall Out Boy, that was their problem. Spencer wasn’t going to abandon Dallon, though. He waved his hand over his head, and reached over someone to grab Dallon’s outstretched arm and pull them towards the front. Spencer grinned up at them. “Is this your first show?”

 

“I’ve played shows before,” Dallon said. “But they weren’t like this.”

 

“Well, not to make any assumptions about the Brobecks, because I’m sure they were a great band and would have gotten far in life if the Mormons hadn’t screwed you over, but I’m pretty sure you guys were never the headlining band in your own hometown,” Spencer said. He had to yell to be heard over everyone else, and he could hear his voice getting higher. It was annoying, and Spencer couldn’t wait until he was eighteen and could start taking hormones. It was less than a year. Spencer could handle it.

 

“True,” Dallon shouted back. “We also weren’t a metal band.”

 

“Fall Out Boy isn’t metal!” Ryan yelled, because Ryan was an expert on Fall Out Boy and had no qualms about correcting people if they were wrong. “They’re punk rock, or alt rock or whatever! But Andy and Pete were big on the metal scene before they started the band, and Joe was in a few metal bands with Pete before they started this one!”

 

“She really does know everything,” Dallon said. They seemed impressed. 

 

Spencer grinned. “Just wait until you see them play. It’s amazing.”

 

And it was. Patrick’s voice was electrifying, like Brendon’s but better, louder, more refined after a few years of being in a real band and not just a church choir. Pete was everywhere. He was in the crowd, he was in Joe and Patrick’s faces, he was screaming the lyrics to Andy over his drum kit. It was epic. Spencer and Ryan yelled along to some of the songs, because they were in Chicago, and they could, and they were going to be the next Fall Out Boy pretty soon. They’d do it better, of course, because Fall Out Boy didn’t have Ryan. 

 

By the end of the show, Spencer was sweaty, his hair stuck to his face and his binder soaked through. He didn’t mention that to Ryan. It was fine. He could still breathe. Ryan’s hair was starting to curl from the heat and the sweat, and even Dallon looked like they’d been getting into it. Dallon held onto the two teens as the three of them got out of the mess. “You guys weren’t lying about Fall Out Boy being awesome. The Brobecks shows were never like that.”

 

“We need more of a presence,” Ryan said breathlessly, and Spencer nodded in agreement. She looked up at Dallon. “You and Jon and Brendon and I need to move around more. We’re too boring right now.”

 

“We didn’t have a drum kit until a month ago,” Dallon said. “Once we have an album together, we can figure out what we want to look like when we’re performing. We should also try to start performing, because Linda and her family are nice and all, but I don’t think we can count them as an actual fanbase.”

 

“No shit,” Spencer said. “I found Jon.”

 

Ryan perked up more than she had been before, and broke away from Spencer and Dallon to go back to her boyfriend. Now that Spencer knew that Jon wasn’t some creepy serial killer, he was able to see that Ryan and Jon were really cute around each other. They made each other happy, and it was pure and good, and Spencer wasn’t even jealous of his best friend. He was just proud of her, because she deserved someone who made her light up like Jon did.

 

“So,” Jon said with his arm around Ryan’s waist. “Do you guys want to meet Fall Out Boy or not? Also, where’d Brendon go?”

 

“I don’t know. I’m not his babysitter,” Spencer said. Ryan gave him a look, like he was being way too obvious, and Spencer flushed and added, “but he’s probably with his boyfriend. I’d check the bathrooms, I guess. I don’t really know where they’d go, to be honest.”

 

“It’s Brendon’s loss, really,” Ryan said. She shrugged, and got Jon to lead her, Spencer, and Dallon back behind the stage. It was a lot louder and sweatier now, and there were a lot of people moving around. Patrick was the first one to show up, holding a skateboard and looking overwhelmed. He stared at the four of them for a moment before shifting his gaze to Jon. 

 

“Hey, Patrick, this is my girlfriend and two of her friends,” Jon said. 

 

Patrick waved, still holding the skateboard. “Hey guys. What’d you think about the show?”

 

Spencer and Ryan grinned and immediately started falling over themselves trying to come off as cool but interested around Patrick. This was fucking incredible. Spencer was meeting one of the coolest bands ever, in person, in their home city. Even Dallon seemed excited, and they were only a casual Fall Out Boy fan. There was just something about meeting a person who was more famous than you were. It was like being in front of royalty, but in the backstage area of a smelly bar. 

 

“Do you know what happened to Pete?” Patrick said once Spencer and Ryan had calmed down a little and they were just talking about Chicago. Patrick held up the skateboard. “He took this from someone, but I don’t know who and I really don’t want a skateboard in the van. Someone would end up dying or shooting through the front window.”

 

“I have no idea,” Jon said. “But knowing him, he’s probably out with the audience.”

 

“Ah, fuck,” Patrick muttered to himself. “Of course he is. I’ll go find him.”

 

“We can do that,” Ryan offered. She was a lot calmer now, like somehow knowing that Patrick was a normal guy who swore and worried about his friends flying through the front windshield made him less intimidating. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I mean, we wanted to say hi to Pete anyway.”

 

“Alright. Just make sure he’s not doing anything he shouldn’t be doing. He’s Pete, he likes to get into weird shit,” Patrick said. He was addressing Jon as he spoke, which made sense because Jon was the one who actually worked for Patrick, and therefore was kind of responsible for what happened to Pete, the band, and the gear. He turned to Ryan. “And, uh, you seem like the kind of girl who can take care of herself, but just to be safe, stay near your friends, okay? Some of the people here are real assholes, and even though Pete’s not, he does tend to, you know.”

 

“Make out with teenage girls, yeah,” Ryan said, rolling her eyes. “I’m well-aware of that, but I’m not some teenage girl anymore. I’ve got a boyfriend and standards now.”

 

Spencer stared at her.  _ Had Ryan slept with Pete Wentz? _ It wasn’t an impossible concept, considering that Ryan had seen Fall Out Boy twice without Spencer and she’d always been down for casual hook-ups and stuff before Jon. No one else said anything on the matter, though. Jon took the skateboard from Patrick and the four of them left the backstage area to go find Pete Wentz and make him return his stolen skateboard. 

 

They found Brendon and Derek first. It was pretty obvious that the two of them had been fooling around in the bathroom. Brendon wasn’t very good at hiding things. Spencer didn’t comment on it, and Ryan didn’t either, but she sort of pulled Spencer away from the others, just to give him some room. Spencer figured that, since they were secluded from their friends anyway, he might as well ask her about Pete and making out with teenage girls. 

 

“Did you ever have sex with Pete Wentz?” Spencer asked, loud enough for Ryan to hear him but not loud enough for it to carry. 

 

“No,” Ryan said. She was watching Jon, who had actually found Pete Wentz and was talking to him like he was just a guy off the street. Pete probably was just some guy to Jon, since Jon was around him a lot more than most people. Ryan flicked her hair out of her face. “I did suck him off backstage once, the second time I saw Fall Out Boy. It was okay, Jon knows about it, Jon doesn’t care, I wouldn’t do it again.”

 

“Seriously?” Spencer asked. He wasn’t sure what part of that he was having a hard time believing. He could understand Jon being chill wih it, of course. Jon knew he wasn’t Ryan’s first anything, except maybe love, but that wasn’t an issue for the two of them. He stared at his best friend, eyes slightly narrowed as he tried to decide if she was lying to him or not. “You wouldn’t do it again? Really?”

 

“Well, first of all, I’m dating Jon, so that would be cheating and rude,” Ryan said. “Second, it wasn’t that great of a dick. Jon’s is better.  _ Mine _ is better. It’s more of something to put on my resume, I guess. It’d be hilarious if he wrote a song about it, though, but I don’t think he remembers me. I’m not the only fan he’s hooked up with at a show.”

 

“Huh,” Spencer said. Pete Wentz had suddenly become a lot less impressive. He was just another straight dude who liked getting his dick sucked. Nothing cool or interesting about that.

 

* * *

 

**September 8, 2002; Fort Collins, Colorado.**

 

Ryan’s ditched her friends. It’s not the smartest thing she’s done in her life, but she doesn’t want to go up to Pete looking like a guy. She’s got the change of clothes in her bag, and she’s hoping it’ll make her look slutty enough that Pete won’t realise she’s trans. Or sixteen. This is her birthday present to herself. It’s one thing to be a groupie and have the band know your name. It’s another thing to get to say that you slept with the bassist.

 

Pete Wentz is hot. Ryan Ross is a teenage girl. It’s pretty simple. She was going to get something out of Pete Wentz tonight. She found him after the show, while they were both sweaty and Ryan had messed up her makeup enough that it looked authentic. She pulled at the hem of her tight little skirt, wishing it wouldn’t ride up so much on her thin, stick-like legs. She tucked a piece of curling hair behind her ear. “Hey, Pete, the show was awesome.”

 

“Thanks,” he said, grinning down at her. “We’ve never been to Colorado before. It’s pretty cool, so far.”

 

“Yeah, I was at the Denver show too,” Ryan said. She wasn’t going to lie to Pete about that. “You guys were better tonight, though. How long have you been on tour?”

 

Strangely enough, that’s all it took to get Pete to open up, and soon the two of them were talking like this wasn’t a show and she wasn’t a sixteen year old girl with an unattainable crush on a rising scene king. It didn’t take a lot to get Pete alone, backstage, in a storage room that wasn’t being used, and it wasn’t hard to start kissing him either. He wasn’t a bad kisser. Ryan dropped to her knees because she figured that was the safest way to go.

 

Ryan had never considered being attracted to guys in reality up until that point. But there, on her knees in a dusty storage room, Pete’s average but not bad dick in her mouth, she realised that she was actually bisexual, and not just into girls. She hadn’t been lying to people before. She really did think guys were hot. Real guys, not just the unattainable ones that everyone wanted to fuck. 

 

After it was over, Ryan stood up an pulled her skirt back down. She wiped her mouth and looked down at Pete. “Well, maybe I’ll see you around. That was pretty fun.”

 

“Usually I’m the one saying those lines,” Pete said. He reached up and fixed her hair for her. “But yeah, it’d be cool to see you at a show sometime. If you’re ever in Chicago, just hit me up. I’ll get you on the list or whatever.”

 

Ryan grinned. She’d just gotten an open invitation from a rock star who was seven years older than her. She grabbed her bag from where she’d set it down outside the room, changed back into clothes that didn’t make her look so much like a girl, and walked out. She felt pretty damn accomplished. 

 

* * *

 

**February 4, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Jon found Ryan after her Friday classes, while she was in the library working on something for her English class. He came up behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Hey Ry, guess what?”

 

Ryan leaned her head back. “What?”

 

“We get to talk to Pete Wentz today,” Jon said. They hadn’t talked to the others yet, but Ryan and Jon had been putting demos together of some of the songs that the band had finished, and they were planning to show them to Pete Wentz, who was trying to start up a label. Ryan and Jon figured that it was worth a shot, since Jon knew Pete and Ryan was somewhat known as a fan. Jon had been the one to get them a chance to meet with Pete and talk about it. Ryan just hadn’t realised that the meeting was today.

 

“Wait, shit, seriously?” Ryan said. “Jon, I have work today. I can’t just skip it without telling my manager, and I can’t lie and say I’m sick, she’s in my stats class!”

 

Jon brushed Ryan’s hair away from her face. “Don’t worry about it. I already called in for you, said there was a family emergency, and that you’d be willing to pick up an extra shift later to make up for it. I also brought you a change of clothes, in case you don’t want to show up to Pete Wentz’s apartment in what you’re wearing now.”

 

Ryan looked down at what she was wearing. Wedges, ratty jeans, and a sweater that looked like it belonged on the SoHo streets of New York. She nodded. “Yeah, I should probably change. Are we taking the van or the bus?”

 

“The van,” Jon said. “Dallon got back from his shift right befor I was about to leave, so I got it for tonight. Do you want to change there, or in here somewhere?”

 

Ryan considered it for a moment. She was a girl here on campus, and in Chicago in general, and no one knew her as anything else, but she was still worried about passing. She didn’t want to make a big deal about it, but she also didn’t want to have to change in the backseat of a car again. That shit was never fun. She took a deep breath and said to Jon, “I’ll do it here. Wait outside the bathrooms for me, though?”

 

“Of course,” Jon said, and kissed her. She took the bag of clothes from him, and the two of them walked hand in hand to the bathroom. Jon leaned against the wall, Ryan’s school backpack by his feet, and Ryan walked in. She kept her head down, not looking up at anyone else who might be in the bathroom, and headed into the closest stall. She locked it and hooked the bag of clothes over the coat hook, and then started changing. 

 

The clothes Jon had brought her were somewhere between date night and business casual, which was good because Ryan didn’t want to walk into Pete’s apartment wearing heels and a fancy dress. She wanted him to know that she wasn’t a horny sixteen year old girl anymore, if he even remembered her from back them.She wanted him to know that she was a woman now, and she was going to do what she needed to get her band noticed. 

 

She wasn’t letting Spencer down again, the way she had when everyone else quit on them and they were just a drummer and a guitarist. 

 

She closed her eyes for a moment and pretended that this wasn’t terrifying. She was going to walk out of the bathroom stall, no one was going to think of her as a man, and she was going to go talk to Pete Wentz with Jon and get her band signed. And then they were going to make an album and kick ass while doing it. She opened her eyes and then opened the door, gripping the bag of her old clothes in one hand and trying to look as cis as possible.

 

“Ooh, hey, you look nice,” a girl who was washing her hands said. Ryan froze, her heart pounding. She wanted to say something, but she knew that her voice would give her away and she didn’t want to cause a disturbance. The girl smiled at Ryan. “Are you going to a job interview?”

 

Ryan swallowed and nodded. She tried to get her voice to sound like a cis girl’s, and said, “you could say that. I’m in a band, we’re trying to get signed.”

 

The girl nodded. She looked like she genuinely cared about Ryan and Ryan’s band. “Good luck, then! And you guys should totally play around here. Chicago needs more girl bands.”

 

Ryan nodded, attempted a smile, and then got out of there as quickly as she could. Jon was still waiting for her, one leg hooked over her backpack so that no one could just snatch it and walk away. He looked up as she came over and pulled her in close. Jon kissed her cheek. “We’re going to do this, okay? We’re going to go kick ass together and it’ll be great.”

 

“I know,” Ryan said, even though she didn't. She believed in the band, of course, because she;d put her whole soul into it and she knew that they were good. Ryan knew that they could make it as a band, and go on tour and live in a van together and get to record albums together until they all hated each other and needed a break. She knew they could do that, with or without Pete signing them to his new label. Ryan also knew that the process would be a lot easier if Pete Wentz signed them. 

 

She took a deep breath. “Let’s go do this.”

 

* * *

 

Pete Wentz’s apartment was pretty much like any other apartment, except that there was some really weird artwork on the wall and the couch was a really ugly colour. Other than that, though, it just looked like a guy in his twenties was living there. Ryan almost forgot why she and Jon were there, because they were both settled into the really ugly couch and Pete was in the little kitchen getting them lemonade.

 

Pete came back with the two lemonades, handed them to Ryan and Jon, and then sat down, cross-legged, in the chair across from them. He grinned. “So, what’s this demo thing you wanted to talk to me about?”

 

“Jon and I put together some demos from our band,” Ryan said. “We wanted you to listen to them, because we’re the kind of sound you’ve been looking for, and we think that our band would be great for your label. Whenever you end up launching it, that is.”

 

“Do you guys have a name?” Pete asked. It was a legitimate question, but unfortunately, Ryan didn’t have an answer. A year ago, she and Spencer were in a band called Pet Salamander. It was a dumb name, and they’d dropped it when they lost their other members. Now, though, Ryan needed a name but she didn’t have one. 

 

She glaned at Jon. She’d have to make up a name, on the spot, and hope it was right. Jon nodded at her, taking her hand and squeezing it. It was a silent message, but a clear one:  _ I trust you. You’ve got this _ . Ryan turned back to Pete Wentz, and said, with as much confidence as she could muster considering she was about to blatantly lie to the guy, “we’re Panic at the Disco, and we’re going to blow your fucking mind.”

 

“Panic at the Disco?” Pete asked. Ryan nodded, and Jon handed over the CD with their demos on it. They’d recorded everything in Linda’s parent’s garage, and it sounded pretty good considering the situation. Pete took the CD and flipped it over in his hand. He frowned. “Listen, guys, I think it’s super cool that you wanted to come to me and get signed, but I don’t know if I should.”

 

Ryan slumped down in her seat. Jon rose up in his, still holding onto Ryan’s hand. “You haven’t even listened to the demos. Listen, Pete, I know music. You know music. I know I can’t ever speak objectively about the band because it’s mine and my girlfriend’s in it too, but trust me. If you listen to those demos, you’re going to hear something you’ve never heard before. This band has a lot of talent, and if you don’t sign us? You’re going to regret it, because someone else out there  _ is _ going to take the time out of their day to listen to us, and they  _ are  _ going to fall in love with Panic and sign us.”

 

Pete stared down at the demo in his hand. “It’s… I don’t know if the world is ready for a band like yours. It’d be one thing if Ryan was your lead singer, the world loves female fronted bands right now, but… they’re just not ready for a girl who actually does stuff.”

 

“Why do they need to be ready?” Ryan asked. “And why does it matter who’s in the band? If we make good music--which we do--then people are going to listen to it. And if they get mad that one of the guitarists is a girl, who gives a shit? I don’t want sexist douchebags listening to my music anyway.”

 

“What she said,” Jon said, nodding and pointing at Ryan. 

 

Ryan wasn’t done, though. She leaned forward, towards Pete. “Just because you’re too scared to branch out before the world is, doesn’t mean the rest of us are. I’m a girl, I play guitar, and my fucking band is going to be bigger than yours, whether you put us on your roster or not. We’re not asking you to keep us from drowning in irrelevance, Pete Wentz. We’re asking you to listen to our demo, and decide if our raw talent is the kind of shit you want to side yourself with. So why don’t you listen before you make you decision?”

 

Pete stared at her for a moment. Ryan thought she saw a glimmer of recognition cross his face, like maybe he remembered her as the girl who sucked his dick two and a half years ago. Pete waved the CD at the two of them. “Stay here for a moment. I’m gonna go see if you guys are more than just words.”

 

“We are,” Jon said. Pete grinned at him as he stood up and walked out of the living room. Ryan could faintly hear her own songs coming through the doorway to Pete’s bedroom. She held Jon’s hand tightly, leaning against him. This was not what she’d planned. She thought that Pete would promise to listen to the demos later, and get back to Jon once he’d listened to them. 

 

“I didn't think he was going to listen to them while we were still here,” Ryan whispered. 

 

“Well, you sasses him into it,” Jon said. He squeezed her hand. “I'm proud of you, by the way.”

 

“Thanks,” Ryan said. She looked back over to the closed door separating them from Pete's bedroom. The music was still going.  _ How many does he have to listen to before he decides? _ Ryan thought. She tapped her fingers on her bare knee, waiting. 

 

Finally, the music stopped and a few moments later, the door to Pete's bedroom opened and Pete stepped out, holding the CD. He handed it back to Ryan but didn't sit down. Ryan and Jon looked at each other, and then Jon asked what they were both thinking, “so, what'd you think?”

 

“I want to see you guys live, but yeah, I'll sign you,” Pete said. “It's good. It's… it's better than a lot of stuff I've seen recently.”

 

“Holy shit,” Ryan said before she could stop herself. 

 

Pete grinned at them both. “Pretty much. What time can I come by and see you guys at practice? I'm assuming you're from around here since Jon works with me. Sometimes. Do you guys want to exchange number so we can plan a time to meet up and play later or do you know your schedules now?”

 

“Um, we're all working, so we don't exactly  _ have _ schedules,” Ryan said, looking over at Jon again. “I guess we can exchange numbers and work out a date that works for everyone?”

 

“Nice!” Pete said, and then scribbled his number down on a napkin before handing it over to Ryan. “Text me, I'll text back, we'll figure this out. This is exciting!”

 

“Thanks Pete,” Jon said. He took the number, since Ryan was too busy staring at it and thinking  _ holy duck that's Pete Wentz’s phone number; I have Pete Wentz’s phone number _ to take it herself. She and Jon left shortly after that, because they had to get back to the apartment anyway and there wasn't any reason for them to just hang around at Pete Wentz’s apartment. It was cool, but it wasn't super entertaining. 

 

They made it to the van before it hit Ryan. Her band--which was now apparently named Panic at the Disco--was signed to Pete Wentz’s new label. Pete Wentz liked her band’s music. She reached out and grabbed Jon by the arm. “Jon, we're a signed band.”

 

“I know,” he said, grinning. And just like that, they were kissing each other, right in the middle of the parking lot in front of the Brobecks van. It was like the first time they'd met each other in real life, but this time Ryan's body was buzzing with excitement instead of nervousness, and she knew Jon loved her. She knew this was all real, and her life, and she'd made it happen. 

 

Ryan pulled back from the kiss, breathing heavily. “I want you.”

 

“Right now?” Jon asked, but he wasn't saying no. Ryan nodded. She was nearly vibrating with energy. She wanted Jon. She wanted to do something ridiculous, like have sex in the back of the van even though they had a perfectly good, functioning bed twenty minutes away. It didn't matter. Ryan wanted to have him  _ now _ . Jon leaned up and kissed her again, walking her back to the van. “Okay. I love you. I can't believe this is happening.”

 

“I love you too,” Ryan said. “And I know. This is surreal.”

 

She and Jon climbed into the back of the van, still kissing and holding each other, somehow. It wasn't frantic, because they had all the time in the world, and it wasn't really desperate, but it was definitely something. Ryan a condom and a tiny bottle of lube from her bag (she was a bit of a slut pre-Jon, and it helped to be prepared) and handed them to him before unraveling her scarf from around her neck and unbuttoning her shirt. She’s started wearing little bralettes since she started hormones, but her chest still looked flat and she still felt like she was faking, sometimes. 

 

Jon didn’t look at her like that. He never did. He took Ryan into his arms, running his hands up her back and under her bra as they kissed, stroking her hair lovingly as he lowered them down onto the blanket in the back of the van. Ryan wasn’t sure who had put it there, but she was glad it existed, because the floor of the Brobecks van wasn’t super comfortable. Jon stopped kissing her to get undressed himself, pulling his sweater over his head and undoing his pants, kicking them off to the side before climbing back on top of Ryan and kissing her again. 

 

Ryan pulled Jon in closer as he trailed his hand up her skirt, fingers tracing the inside of her thighs. She lifted her hips up to meet him, and he slid her underwear off in one smooth motion so that she was left in nothing but her skirt and bra. Ryan buried her face in Jon’s shoulder as Jon slicked his fingers up and started to finger her, gasping as he stretched her open. He pulled his fingers out and then kissed her while taking her skirt off. Ryan rolled them over on the blanket so that she was perched on top of Jon, his dick against her ass, comfortable and warm. 

 

Jon grinned up at her. “You wanna be on top this time?”

 

“I just wanted to ride you,” Ryan said. She reached around behind herself and took Jon’s dick in her hand, stroking him. Jon held onto Ryan’s hips, rocking her back against him. Ryan grabbed the condom from off the blanket and ripped the package open with her teeth. She moved backwards, Jon’s dick rubbing across her ass and over her own dick, until she was sitting on his thighs and could roll the condom onto him. Ryan moved forward again, slipping down over Jon’s dick. 

 

He sat up to meet her, and Ryan let out a little gasp at the change in position. Jon reached around and cupped her ass with his hands, pulling her in towards him. They kissed as she rode him, but it was more of Ryan gasping against Jon’s mouth, and Jon making little moans back at her, holding her close. Ryan held onto Jon, her long fingers tangled in his hair, her eyes closing and opening as she fucked herself down on him.

 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Jon said, his lips against Ryan’s neck. Ryan nodded, knowing that Jon meant it even if she couldn’t always see it herself, and guided one of his hands around to her dick, which was hard and leaking. Jon nibbled at her neck as he stroked her. “So pretty, so hot, fuck.”

 

“You make me cum,” Ryan said back, because she wasn’t poetic during sex. She was too busy enjoying herself to think about the right words to use for the situation. Jon laughed into her shoulder, his whole body rocking with the motion. Ryan squeaked out a moan as Jon squeezed her dick, and she came over his stomach and her own. Jon’s laughter turned into a moan of his own, and Ryan could feel him coming as well. 

 

Ryan pulled herself up off of him, turning onto her side as Jon took off the condom, tied it up, and gently set it down on the corner of the blanket, away from them both. He leaned over her and kissed her, holding Ryan’s face in his hands. “We should probably head back.”

 

“Do you have a tissue I can use, first?” Ryan asked, pointing towards her cum still on Jon’s lower abdomen. Jon nodded and reached over the back seats to grab a box of tissues. He wiped himself down while Ryan started getting redressed, and then Jon got redressed as well and the two of them cleaned up the back of the van so it didn’t look too obviously debauched. 

 

“We’re not going to make a big deal about this when we get back, right?” Jon asked once they were both fully dressed and sitting in the front seats of the van.

 

Ryan nodded. “Right. Because it’s not that big of a deal. We were going to get signed anyway, it was just a matter of when it would happen.”

 

“We don’t even have to tell the guys when we get back,” Jon said. He started the van. “Not in a withholding information way, just… they’re going to be tired, there’s no reason to get everyone hyped up when we’re all working tomorrow, we can tell them in the morning kind of thing.”

 

“Definitely,” Ryan said. She leaned back in her seat, stretching her legs out. They were signed to Pete Wentz’s label. No big deal. 

 

* * *

 

“Remember how we said we weren’t going to make a big deal about this?” Ryan asked. They were standing outside the apartment. Jon nodded. Ryan squeezed his hand. “Yeah, that was bullshit. We’re making a big deal about this.””

 

“You should have told me earlier; I would have bought confetti,” Jon said. He unlocked the door and then burst through it, yelling, “GUESS WHO JUST GOT SIGNED, MOTHER FUCKERS!?”

 

“WE DID!” Ryan yelled, jumping in front of her boyfriend and doing jazz hands dramatically. Dallon, Spencer, and Brendon were all staring at her and Jon from the kitchen table. She grinned. “PETE WENTZ IS MY BITCH NOW!”

 

“Um, I'm proud of you?” Spencer said. Ryan straightened up and moved over to wrap him up in a hug, squeezing his head. Spencer awkwardly patted her arm. “But did you really get us signed to Pete Wentz’s label, or are you guys just being funny?”

 

“No, it really happened,” Jon said. “He's going to come by and see us practicing live at some point. So, we should probably tell Linda's parents so that they don't freak out when a weird, short little dude shows up in their kitchen. Because Pete will do that. He doesn't understand boundaries.”

 

“You guys do realise we  _ only _ have the demos we put together a few weeks ago, right?” Dallon said. They looked up at Ryan, like they were making sure Ryan specifically knew just how far in over their head the band was getting. She was aware. She just believed that they could pull it off regardless. Dallon set their fork down. “And that we don't have a name yet.”

 

“About that,” Ryan said, letting go of Spencer. “We have a name. I panicked and made one up on the spot, and Pete seemed to like it so now we're Panic at the Disco.”

 

“Considering how most of our songs sound, that's not the worst you could come up with,” Dallon said. 

 

“Can we add an exclamation mark after the Panic?” Brendon asked. When everyone turned to stare at him, he slumped down in his seat and added, “I don't know, it would make the name more interesting. And it'd make us stand out if we had a band name with punctuation in it.”

 

“I'm cool with it,” Jon said. Dallon and Spencer nodded in agreement as well. 

 

Brendon looked up at Ryan. He looked small, the way he used to back when they were all in Vegas and were trying to get out. “Ryan?”

  
Ryan swallowed. It didn't matter, really. It was just an exclamation mark, and if people didn't like it, she could always convince the others to get rid of it for a bit. It wasn't a big deal to her, or anyone else but Brendon. Ryan nodded. “Yeah, let's do it. Panic! at the Disco it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how I keep saying "oh there's only like two chapters left in this fic" and then... not doing that? I almost said that this time I meant it but I no longer trust myself so I'll just say this: all that's left is prom, the squad screaming as they try to finish an album, and brendon/dallon/spencer finally getting together. and then an epilogue because there are some things in this universe that i need to address before i can let them all Rest.
> 
> ....also tag yourself, I'm my declining sense of grammar in that paragraph.

**February 14, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Spencer decided that he hated Valentine’s Day. It seemed like it was just an excuse for all the straight couples in the school to be even more obnoxious with each other. On top of that, Brendon had gotten a giant bouquet of carnations from Derek, and was grinning from ear to ear as he carried them around. Spencer was jealous, and he could admit it now, but that didn't make him feel any better about the situation. He still wanted the day to be over. 

 

At least Linda was also single, though when Spencer joined her at lunch, she was holding a single carnation and looking at it curiously. Spencer leaned forward. “Who's that for?”

 

“No one,” Linda said. “I got it in second period, and all it says is  _ secret admirer.  _ I hope it's not from a guy, because that would suck.”

 

“Wow, thanks,” Spencer said, jokingly, and reached for the flower. “I guess I'll take that back now, so much for anonymous friendship.”

 

Linda pulled away from him, bringing the carnation towards her chest and cradling it like it was a small child she had to protect. “I know you, asshole, and you wouldn't anonymously send me a friendship flower. You'd put your name on it or do something ridiculous, not send me a genuine note.”

 

Spencer's eyes widened. “There's a note? What does it say?”

 

Linda turned the tag on the carnation around so that Spencer could see it. 

 

_ Your smile has captivated me since I first saw you. Your eyes are warm like coffee in the early mornings, and your laughter is the sweetest sound. Maybe one day I'll have the courage to give you more than just this flower.  _

 

“That's… sweet but also a little creepy,” Spencer said. He wanted to know who it was, and for Linda's sake, he hoped it was a girl too. If anyone deserved a cute girlfriend, it was Linda Ignarro, who was awesome and passionate and would bitch-slap anyone who was an asshole to her friends. Spencer let go of the corner of the tag that he'd been holding. “We need to find out who this person is so you can get a date out of them if they're a girl.”

 

“What if they're shitty?” Linda said, frowning. “What if they're one of those people who don't think trans people are real?”

 

“Then we fight them, obviously,” Spencer said. It was the only plausible solution. Spencer was in a signed band, he and his best friend (and three of his other friends) were making an album together, and everything was finally coming together. “But whatever happens, I’ve got your back. I’m like, your wingman or something. We’re friends. I’m not going to let you end up with some asshole.”

 

Linda rolled her eyes. “Stop acting like I’m helpless.”

 

“I’m not, I’m just offering friendship,” Spencer said. Linda raise and eyebrow and Spencer sat back in his seat. “Okay, fine, I won’t act like I’m your older brother. But at least let me help figure out who this person is? I’m invested, I want to know.”

 

“Obviously. I’m not leaving you out of the loop,” Linda said. She and Spencer finished their lunches, occasionally breaking the comfortable silence to suggest an idea to the other as to who the secret admirer could be. Neither of them had any idea,and the thought occupied Spencer’s mind for the rest of the day. 

 

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost walked out of the school to get on the bus and go home instead of going upstairs to the GSA meeting. He quickly bolted back into the building and up the stairs to where the GSA was being held. Spencer wasn’t late, but Linda did give him a funny look when he burst through the door.

 

“Alright, now that we have everyone here,” Linda said when it was two thirty and everyone had grabbed a seat. “Let’s start the meeting. I know a lot of people have been asking about t-shirts, and I’d love for us to have some, but we don’t have any money. We’re a new club, and we’re also a bunch of gay kids, so there aren’t a lot of people out there who’d be willing to give us money.”

 

“We could do a fundraiser!” Someone called out from the back. 

 

“Okay, sure. Anyone have ideas for what we could do as a fundraiser?” Spencer asked. Outside of selling Girl Scout cookies when he was a kid, Spencer didn’t have any experience with fundraisers. 

 

Brendon’s hand shot up into the air. Spencer and Linda didn’t even get the chance to acknowledge him before he started, which was so much like Brendon that it was adorable instead of annoying. “Dude, Spence, we’re in a band. Why don’t we just have a concert to raise money for the club? We can invite Pete and everything.”

 

“Um,” Spencer said, looking over at Linda because the only place the band could practice in was her parent’s garage. “Maybe?”

 

Linda nodded. “Let’s do it. Anyone who wants to host a charity concert for the GSA in my garage, raise your hands!”

 

Pretty much the entire club raised their hands, and a few more people joined when Brendon mentioned that Fall Out Boy would probably be there, since his and Spencer’s band knew them personally. Brendon was lying a bit, but Spencer had learned that that was just something he did. Brendon lied. Shit got done. 

 

Spencer just hoped that being in a band didn’t get to Brendon’s head before they could even put an album out. He also hoped that they could get Fall Out Boy to show up, and that Ryan wouldn’t freak out when she found out that the band would be performing in front of a live audience a lot earlier than expected.

 

* * *

 

**February 17, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Spencer was back at the bookstore where Ryan worked, waiting in line for coffee and to get to talk to Ryan about the show. Spencer had made sure that Brendon knew that  _ he _ would be the one telling Ryan about the show, and that Brendon was to shut the fuck up about it until Spencer said otherwise. He didn’t want to be so bitter and harsh towards Brendon, but he had to be. Ryan, despite wanting to be in a band and being the band’s original frontwoman (before shit hit the fan and they moved to Chicago), had pretty bad stage fright.

 

There was a reason the band had never played live before. Spencer hoped that Ryan would be okay with this, because it wasn’t like they could back out. The GSA needed Panic! at the Disco, and Panic! at the Disco needed Ryan. 

 

“Hey Spence, what’s up?” Ryan asked, typing in his order before he could even tell her what he wanted. Spencer knew she’d get it right.

 

“Uh, how do you feel about playing live in front of some high schoolers and also Fall Out Boy?” Spencer asked. He glanced over his shoulder while he handed Ryan his money. There were still people behind him, so Spencer stepped off to the side so that he wouldn’t hold up the line while he talked to Ryan. 

 

“Sounds terrifying,” she responded, and turned to the next person in line. “Why are you asking me?”

 

Spencer waited until Ryan had gotten the guy’s order, so that he wouldn’t distract her. “Because the GSA needs funding money and we all kind of suck at coming up with fundraiser ideas, so we decided to do a charity concert in Linda’s garage. Her parents are okay with it, by the way. And it’s going to be the Saturday after St. Patrick’s day. I just wanted to give you some advance warning, and also ask if you could, like, tell Pete Wentz about it.”

 

Ryan smiled at the customer and then turned away from her to look Spencer right in the eyes and roll her eyes at him. “Yes, I’ll call Pete Wentz. He wanted to see us live anyway, this is like two birds with one stone. We need to figure out a setlist, though, because I don’t think we have enough songs for a whole show yet and we’ll have to work out a few covers.”

 

* * *

 

**February 23, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Spencer was exhausted. They’d all been practicing for hours because Ryan and Dallon had finished a new song last night and wanted to add it to the setlist. It was catchy, and Spencer really liked it, but he also had about two and a half hours of homework waiting for him whenever they finished this practice session. 

 

Linda’s parents were out at some weekly church thing until nine, and they’d taken Linda’s siblings with them. Linda was still there, but she was inside now, working on her own homework because she was an overachiever and was taking a bunch of AP stuff and doing a bunch of college preparation. Spencer had forgotten to apply anywhere, but if the band worked out, it wasn’t like he’d need college anyway. 

 

“Can we do the second part again, right after the chorus?” Jon asked from where he had perched himself on an amp. “There’s something wrong with Brendon’s voice.”

 

“I have to confess, guys,” Brendon said while downing a cup of water. “I’ve started smoking. Like, religiously. Three packs a day.”

 

“If you’re telling the truth I am actually going to murder you with my guitar,” Ryan said. Spencer could tell she was serious. He could also tell that they were tired, and so he really didn’t mind when Dallon came over to hover beside him while the other three argued. 

 

Spencer set his sticks down and looked up at Dallon. “Why’d you guys have to finish the song now? Couldn’t you wait a week and a half or however long it is until St. Patrick’s Day?”

 

“It’s a good song,” Dallon said. They shrugged, plucked a few notes on their bass. It sounded like it had once been a part of a song, in some other life. “We’re not on a schedule yet, but I think Ryan is. I don’t always get her, you know? No offense or anything, I think she’s a great person and a really talented writer, but sometimes she does shit or says shit, and I’m completely thrown.”

 

“Ryan always has something to prove,” Spencer said. He thought about how Ryan had worked her ass off in high school, even though everyone wrote her off as some deadbeat kid with her head in the clouds. He thought about how Ryan only applied to schools far away from Las Vegas, and how the closest one had been in Boulder but only because it was close to Denver so that she and Spencer could meet up at shows occasionally. He thought about how she’d gotten into every school she applied too, full or close to full ride scholarships included, and how she’d spent the week after graduation at Spencer’s house, watching MTV instead of celebrating. “She’s a fighter, but she’s also got this weird lone wolf thing going on.”

 

“And where do you fit into that?” Dallon asked. They looked sad, and Spencer wondered, for a very short moment, if Dallon had become so close to Ryan because she reminded them of Breezy somehow. “If Ryan’s a lone wolf, where do you belong?”

 

“I don’t,” Spencer said. It was true. He’d always been the awkward kid, even more so when Ryan wasn’t around. He didn’t have any friends in girl scouts or in the children’s choir his mom made him sing in for three years. He didn’t join any sports because he wasn’t athletic and people tended to laugh and throw shit at him in gym class. Spencer was a weird little kid, and never in a good way, unless Ryan was there. “I feel like I’m living in her shadow, sometimes. Not a lot, but, you know. Sometimes I feel like people only see me as half of a duo.”

 

“You’re not, though,” Dallon said. “You have a personality, and you have your own life and your own choices, and you’re definitely not dependent on Ryan.”

 

Spencer raised an eyebrow. He was self-aware enough to know that he and Ryan were closer than most people, even people who’d been dating for years. He’d always been told that he needed to have other friends besides Ryan, because Ryan wouldn’t always be there for him, which was probably true but so far it didn’t matter. Spencer and Ryan were still in the same city, still in a band together, and they were still best friends.

 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, okay?” Dallon said. “You’ll figure out your place in the world eventually, and it’s not like we’re all in a race to figure shit out first.”

 

“If we were, you’d definitely win,” Spencer said. “You’ve got your life figured out, you’ve been in a band already, and you’re an adult, so people are actually gonna take you seriously when you say you want to make music for the rest of your life.”

 

“I’m also five years older than you,” they said. Spencer prepared for some comment on how he was still a child, how he didn’t understand the world and relationships and life decisions just because he was about six months shy of some magic number that changed everything. Dallon didn’t say any of that, though, not like they had the first time they met Spencer, back in their parents’ house in Summerlin. “You’re mature, really, and I’m constantly impressed by the shit that you understand. When I was a senior in high school, I was scared of pretty much everything. I was deep in the closet, I was practicing a religion out of fear instead of belief, and I was preparing to go off and avoid college and the real world for two years.”

 

“So, if we were too all look at ourselves when we were a senior in high school that would be the way to see who was winning the game of life?” Spencer asked, a smile forming on his face. 

 

Dallon shook their head. “You can’t win at the game of life. Everyone figures shit out differently. Sometimes you don’t understand things until you experience them yourself, other times you’re lucky enough to learn from other people’s bad decisions.”

 

“That’s pretty deep,” Spencer said. 

 

“Thanks,” Dallon smiled down at him, and Spencer’s heart skipped a beat. “I stole it off the internet.”

 

Spencer laughed, and then Dallon started laughing too, and it was weird, because there was nothing specific to be laughing about. Dallon stealing a quote from the internet wasn’t that funny, but there they were, dissolving into a fit of giggles in front of each other. Spencer looked away from Dallon for a moment, and noticed Ryan watching the two of them. She looked between the two of them, and then she looked right at Spencer and wiggled her eyebrows. 

 

Spencer flushed. He subtly flipped Ryan off from under his drumkit, and she laughed at him before coming over with her hands on her hips and her guitar still around her. “So, you two are having fun.”

 

“You were busy,” Dallon responded. “I didn’t want to interrupt whatever was going on with you and the other guys, so I came back here to keep Spencer company.”

 

“Sure. Whatever works for you,” Ryan said. She played a chord loudly on her guitar, a sign that they were all about to get back to rehearsal. “Now let’s get this song right. We’ve got a show coming up soon, and I don’t want to fuck it up.”

 

* * *

 

**March 19, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

“We’re going to fuck it up,” Ryan said to Spencer from behind his drumkit. There was no backstage area, or place to properly warm up, so they were going to have to do it out here, in front of all the people who had shown up. There were a lot more people here than Spencer had expected to show up, but that was a good thing because the GSA needed a lot of money if they wanted to keep being a club after Linda and Spencer graduated in May. 

 

“No we’re not,” Spencer said. “We know the songs, Brendon’s a great frontman, and Pete’s just here because he wants to make sure we weren’t bullshitting our way into an album. We’ve got this.”

 

“There are way too many people here,” Ryan said. “How the fuck did they all fit into the garage?”

 

“Physics?” Spencer offered. The garage looked like it was a small venue downtown, and not someone’s garage out in the nice part of Chicago. People were crowded in, and Linda was over behind the desk taking people’s money and taking care of drinks. She gave Spencer a thumbs up, and he returned it with one of his own before turning back to Ryan. “Just pretend they’re not here. It’s just you, me, the band and Pete Wentz. And you’ve already convinced Pete Wentz that you’re a kickass musician. Anything we do tonight it just icing on the cake.”

 

“That’s a shitty cliche,” Ryan said, rolling her eyes. 

 

“You’re a shitty cliche.”

 

Brendon came up to the two of them and tapped his fingers on the cymbal. He looked tense, and his eyes were wide and his foot was tapping rapidly against the floor. “Are we ready? I’m gonna lose it if we don’t start soon. I think my nerves are getting to me, which is weird, because I never get nervous about performing, I love performing--”

 

“Brendon, calm down,” Spencer said before Brendon could continue rambling. Brendon snapped his mouth shut. Spencer sighed, running his hand through his hair and resisting the urge to start tapping on the rims to get the edge off of his own nerves. He didn't know how he ended up being the voice of calmness and reason. Dallon and Jon were standing near the front of the stage, which was just a bunch of wood that had been hammered together one night by Linda's dad and Dallon. They looked calm, but they'd done this before. Dallon had the experience of being in the Brobecks, and Jon was a bass tech and occasional fill-in for local bands. 

 

Spencer pointed that out to Ryan and Brendon, and then added, “so if you get nervous, just go stand by one of them and maybe it'll be less terrifying. And Ryan, since you're not the lead singer, you don't have to face the audience all the time.”

 

“What about me?” Brendon asked. 

 

“Don't look directly at them?” Spencer said. He was lucky, getting to sit in the back behind his drums and not worry about people noticing his presence. Spencer leaned forward, looking up at Brendon. “You're going to be fine, though. You're a great performer, even when it's just us and Linda, and everyone's going to love you. You're irresistible.”

 

Brendon grinned. “Thanks, Spence, that really means a lot to me.”

 

Brendon’s body relaxed, and his fingers curled loosely around the head of the symbol, and for a moment Spencer forgot that they weren’t dating anymore and that things were still weird between them. And then Brendon leaned away and headed back to the front of the stage, and Spencer was left back behind his drumkit with Ryan. 

 

“I’m gonna head up to the front,” Ryan said. She reached out and offered her hand for a fist bump, which Spencer gave her. Spencer waited while the other four members of the band got in their positions and checked their instruments to make sure nothing was amiss. Dallon looked to Ryan, who nodded, and then Dallon looked back at Spencer and pretended to do a drumroll on the neck of their bass. 

 

Spencer started a drumroll, getting louder as Brendon strutted across the stage, getting the attention of the crowd and drawing him in the way he did with everyone he met. He was gorgeous, dressed up in a suit and with one of Ryan’s makeup looks painted onto his face. His pants hugged his ass and he wasn’t hiding behind anything as he called out into the microphone, “are you guys ready to lose your fucking minds?”

 

Spencer ended the roll as the crowd burst into cheers. Brendon shot Spencer a grin over his shoulder, winked, and then turned back to the crowd. “Good evening, Chicago Illinois. My name is Brendon, these are some of my best friends, but tonight, none of that matters. Tonight, we are Panic! at the Disco, and we’re about to take you on a musical journey, the likes of which you have never seen or heard before! It is now… Time to Dance!”

 

And it started. Spencer could see everything, hidden in the back behind his drums. Brendon moved from Ryan to Dallon to Jon back to Dallon again, watching the crowd and moving with whoever they seemed to like best. Ryan played facing the front for a bit, before turning around and walking over to Spencer, playing and singing her words to him. Spencer sang back, even though his voice sucked and he didn’t know all of the words. 

 

Ryan grinned. She spun around, her dress flaring out and the shiny red fabric catching the lights they’d set up around the stage. She and Jon moved towards each other at the end of the song, pressing their foreheads together and looking more in love than any couple off of a movie screen. It was real, it was passionate, and it was everything Spencer could have dreamed of when he and Ryan were young and clueless and just wanted to be in a band together.

 

By the end of the show, Spencer was sweaty and he could feel the blisters manifesting on his hands from where he’d been gripping the drumsticks. The garage was hot, and no one had thought to open the doors because it was below freezing outside, and there was a chance of snow. Spencer leaned back, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt and wishing they’d dressed in less clothes for their show attire. He was going to overheat in Chicago. In March. 

 

“Thank you, Chicago! And have a fantastic night!” Brendon yelled, his voice raw and cracking. Dallon tossed him a water bottle, but Brendon wasn’t paying attention so it just hit his arm and fell off the stage. Someone tossed it back up, and Brendon caught it that time. 

 

Off to the side, Linda pressed a button, and the garage doors came up, letting in the cold. It wasn’t snowing, thankfully, because Spencer didn’t want any snow coming in and fucking shit up. People started trailing out, clustering around Pete Wentz to talk to him as they disappeared into the night. The band was packing up their instruments, everything except Spencer’s drum kit, which was a permanent resident at the Ignarro’s house and didn’t get moved. 

 

Pete came up and perched himself on the edge of the stage once all of the guests had left and it was just him, the band, and Linda left in the garage. Ryan and Spencer made eye contact with each other from across the room, and the two of them moved over together to hover above Pete. He had a drink in his hand. It was non-alcoholic, unless someone had punched it. He grinned. “That did not look like it was your first performance together. Have you guys been lying to me this whole time?”

 

“What, no,” Ryan said, shaking her head. The other four had joined them, fanning out behind Ryan and Spencer. “No, we haven’t performed together before.”

 

“I’m not mad,” Pete said. He didn’t look mad. “I’m just impressed.”

 

Just like that, all of the tension in the room left through the garage doors. Pete wasn’t scary anymore. They’d impressed him. 

 

“I have a few questions though,” Pete said, and the tension returned. Pete waved his arms. “It’s nothing bad, I’m just worried. Are you sure you want to be so open about having two transgender people in your band? It might turn a lot of people away, and I know your music is great, but sometimes you have to tone shit down.”

 

“There are three trans people, actually, and we’re not toning down anything,” Dallon said. Spencer turned around to look at them, because he couldn’t believe Dallon was coming out right now. Jon, Brendon, and Linda all looked surprised, but Dallon wasn’t paying attention to them. They were staring Pete down, arms crossed tightly over their chest and their eyebrows drawn. “It’s 2005. You can preach about breaking gender norms all you want at your shows, but you don’t have to get off the stage and keep up the act. We do. We’re trans all the time, whether we’re making a political statement or not. And if people don’t like that Panic! at the Disco is queer band, then too bad. There are kids out there who need to see us. They need to see that they’re not freaks, or mistakes or whatever the world is telling them. So if you’re only going to work with us if Ryan wears pants on stage, then you can leave right now and we’ll do this album on our own.”

 

Pete nodded, and looked at Ryan. “Is that what you think too?”

 

“Yeah,” Ryan said. “I’m tired of hiding.”

 

“And the rest of you?” Pete asked. 

 

Spencer was on board. Brendon and Jon voiced their agreement, and even Linda said that she wanted Panic! to be open about who they were. It was going to be hard, obviously, because there were so many people out there who had shitty opinions, and Pete was right. The band would lose a lot of fans when people realised that Spencer, Dallon, and Ryan were all trans. It didn’t matter that much, not to Spencer. He’d always wished, growing up, that there were famous people who were bisexual, or trans or whatever, so that he and Ryan didn’t have to feel so alone all the time. 

 

They were those people now. They had to be. 

 

* * *

 

**March 22, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Spencer was halfway through his shift when he remembered Linda’s secret admirer from Valentine’s Day. There weren’t a lot of people in the store, so he paused what he was doing and headed to the register where Linda was reorganising some items behind the counter. Spencer leaned against it. “So. Ever figure out who sent you flowers?”

 

“It’s been a month and nothing’s happened,” Linda said. “Whoever it is probably didn’t mean it.”

 

“You don’t actually believe that, do you?” Spencer said. He stood back up. “Dude, come on. Who  _ wouldn’t _ want to date you? You’re witty, you’ve got nice hair, you’re tall… you’re basically a lesbian dream girl.”

 

Linda made a face and then laughed. “God, I hope that’s not the next big trope in guy-dominated fiction. I’ll take no representation over being some weird fetish for straight guys to get off too.”

 

“Unfortunately, we’re already too late to avoid that,” Spencer said. Straight guys were strange. Spencer had known one in high school who only watched lesbian porn because he didn’t want to see dicks because that was, in his strange attempt at logic, gay. Spencer didn’t trust straight guys, usually. He didn’t know if Jon was straight, but he figured he wasn’t. Ryan knew better. She wouldn’t date a straight guy. 

 

The bells above the door jingled, and Spencer and Linda looked up to see who had come in. Spencer recognised the girl from the incident with Dickface McGee. Her eyes widened when she noticed Spencer and Linda watching her, so Spencer waved. “Hey! Did you like the stuff Jane found for you last time?”

 

“Um, yeah,” she said. She kept looking over at Linda, and she had her arms crossed over her chest again. “So, this is a little weird, but I think I know you both from school. I go to your club meetings, sometimes, and I think Linda’s in my calc class.”

 

Linda perked up. “Oh, hey, I recognise you. Sarah, right?”

 

The girl nodded. She glanced over at Spencer, and he couldn’t tell if he was making her nervous or if she wanted him to leave. He stepped back to give her some space anyway. Sarah stepped up to the counter and tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “So, I’ve never done this before, but I think you’re really cool and pretty, and basically, do you want to go on a date sometime?”

 

“Oh, shit,” Spencer said, grinning. The two girls turned to stare him down. Spencer put his hands up. “Sorry. I’ll… I’m gonna go do what I was doing earlier. Before. Have fun?”

 

He returned to the back of the store, where he was stocking and refilling some of the newer comics. Spencer wanted to go back to the front counter, though, to see how Linda and Sarah were doing. Sarah might even be the mystery person who gave Linda flowers. If she was, that would solve the mystery and get Linda a girlfriend. 

 

Spencer kept leaning around the shelves to see if Sarah had left yet or if Linda looked like she had a girlfriend. Spencer had no idea how he was supposed to know if the two were going on a date or not. He just figured he’d know. Or Linda would wave him back up to the front when Sarah left, both girls grinning. Spencer dropped what he was doing and returned to the register. “You said yes?”

 

“Obviously,” Linda said. “Also, she’s the one who got me flowers on Valentine’s Day, so I’m probably going to bring flowers to our date next Saturday just to be gay.”

 

“Always do things just to be gay,” Spencer said. 

 

Linda nodded. “Of course. What other reasons do I have?”

 

* * *

 

**April 12, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Spencer was going to die. It was Brendon’s birthday, and somehow Dallon had talked everyone into throwing him a surprise party for when he got off of work. Spencer had agreed because he liked Brendon as a person (even though he could be loud and annoying sometimes), but he’d forgotten that Brendon had a boyfriend. 

 

It turned out that Derek and Ryan did not get along. Derek wasn’t transphobic, because that would be too convenient for everyone. He just insisted that he knew what Brendon liked best because the two of them were dating. Ryan kept arguing that Dallon knew Brendon best, because they’d been through so much together, but when Ryan didn’t tell Derek  _ what _ Dallon had been through together, he didn’t believe her. 

 

Spencer tapped his fingers against his thigh. He wanted everyone to stop glaring at each other so that Brendon would be able to enjoy the party. Whenever he decided to show up, of course. 

 

“He got off work an hour ago,” Jon said, staring at the door to the apartment. “It doesn’t take that long to get back here, so where the hell is he?”

 

“Should someone call him?” Dallon asked. They were seated beside Jon, looking equally worried. They turned their gaze to Spencer, who was sitting on the kitchen table, not looking at the door because he was looking at Dallon. When Dallon looked at him, Spencer wanted to go over there and wrap them in a hug. It was too early to be worried, if Spencer was being rational, but this was Chicago. Brendon was openly gay. Dallon had lost a friend to homophobia before. Spencer wasn’t going to judge them for being worried. 

 

“I’ll call,” Spencer said. Dallon looked relieved as Spencer pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his contacts until he got to Brendon. He pressed call, and waited.

 

“Spence? Why’re you calling me?” Brendon said through the phone. 

 

Spencer pinched the bridge of his nose. At least Brendon wasn’t dead or anything. “Where are you, dude? Didn’t you get off work an hour ago?”

 

“I wanted to call my parents,” Brendon said. Spencer heard his voice crack, and then the familiar static noise of someone about to start crying over the phone. Spencer hopped off the kitchen table, ready to go find Brendon and do whatever he needed to not be upset anymore. Static crackled through the phone as Brendon took deep breaths on the other en. “I don’t know why I thought that was a good idea. They don’t love me, I don’t know what I wanted them to say. God, I’m so--”

 

“Do you… do you want me or Dallon or someone to come get you?” Spencer asked. He was watching Dallon as he talked. Dallon was watching him right back. 

 

“Yeah, uh, just you two, okay?”

 

“Of course,” Spencer said. “Wait, where are you?”

 

“I’m outside a Baptist church,” Brendon said. He gave Spencer the address, and Spencer got directions from Jon. Derek tried to come with Spencer and Dallon, but Spencer told him that Brendon hadn’t asked for him. Just Dallon and Spencer. Derek looked pissed off that Brendon hadn’t wanted to see his own boyfriend in his time of crisis, but Spencer didn’t care that much. 

 

_ Now you know what it’s like _ , Spencer thought bitterly before closing the door on his way out. He shook his head. He and Brendon had never been the same as Derek and Brendon. Those two had an actual relationship, with real feelings and cute dates. 

 

“Hopefully Ryan won’t kill Derek while we’re gone,” Dallon said as they got into the van. 

 

“Well, Jon’s there, so she probably won’t.”

 

“Good point.”

 

Spencer watched Dallon’s expression. They were closed off, but he could still see the worry in their eyes. He reached over and put his hand over Dallon’s, careful not to jerk the wheel. “Brendon’s okay. He’s just upset because he called his parents and it didn’t go well.”

 

“Of course it didn’t go well,” Dallon said. “They kicked him out because he thought he was in love with me.”

 

“Wasn’t he?” Spencer asked without thinking. He sighed and let go of Dallon’s hand. “I think I was in love with him.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Dallon said. 

 

“I know,” Spencer said. “Turn left.”

 

He reached out and turned up the volume of the music, so that the sounds of  _ Take On Me _ could drown out the silence. Both of them had been with Brendon and had known him more than they could admit. Spencer knew that there was a lot about Brendon he still didn’t know, and most of it was Brendon’s life before they’d met. Spencer drummed his fingers against the seat. “Did Brendon ever talk about his parents with you?”

 

“Not really,” Dallon said. “He only started talking about his family after Breezy died. I don’t know the full picture, but I know enough to hate his parents. They ruined that kid, and he still wants their approval.”

 

“I think most people want their parents’ approval on some level,” Spencer said. “Ryan’s an exception, obviously, but I think that’s because she wants my mom and dad to like her more than her own. I don’t know. I’m not making sense.”

 

“No, you are,” Dallon said. “There’s a part of me, really deep down, that wants Panic! to get really big as a big  _ fuck you _ to all the things my mother said to me before I left. I know I’m never going to be redeemed in her eyes, but I want her to regret pushing me away. I want her to know she was wrong about everything.”

 

Spencer didn’t have anything to say in response. He’d only had one interaction with Dallon’s mom, and it hadn’t been great. If Dallon wanted to spite their mom, Spencer would support them. He figured Dallon’s mom deserved it anyway, since she’d been so shitty to her own kid. 

 

Dallon pulled up to the church. Brendon was sitting on the front steps, his legs pulled up to his chest and his head resting on his knees. It was obvious that he’d been crying even after Spencer stopped talking to him on the phone. As soon as Dallon parked the van, Spencer opened the door and headed over to Brendon, sitting down beside him but not saying anything. Dallon joined the two boys, sitting on the other side of Brendon and putting their arm around his shoulders. 

 

“Does it ever get easier?” Brendon asked, sniffling. “Knowing your parents hate you for who you are?”

 

Dallon sighed. They closed their eyes and pulled Brendon closer. Immediately, Brendon reached out for Spencer and pulled him into the hug as well. Spencer wrapped his arms around Brendon’s waist, leaning his head against Brendon’s shoulder and Dallon’s hand. 

 

“I don’t know,” Dallon said, eventually. It was dark out, and chilly. It felt like the three of them were the only people in the universe at that moment. Spencer looked up at Dallon to see that they had their head leaned back and were blinking away their own tears. Dallon wasn’t just angry and bitter. They were still mourning everything they’d lost in Vegas. “I haven’t figured it out yet.”

 

“I ruin everything, don’t I?” Brendon said. 

 

Spencer held him tighter, because that was a lie even if Brendon wasn’t ready to hear the truth yet. “No you don’t. You’re our friend, and we love who you are. You mean a lot to us, Brendon. All of us.”

 

“Thanks. I still feel shitty though,” Brendon said. 

 

“Well that’s because your parents suck,” Dallon said. “But we’re here for you, and Spencer’s right, we love you for who you are and that’s not going to change unless you do something really horrible. Like murder.”

 

“If it’s someone who deserved it we’ll get Jon to help you bury the body, since he works for the local punk mafia,” Spencer said, hoping it would get a laugh out of Brendon. It did. Brendon giggled, burying his face in Spencer’s hair and making things weird. Brendon didn’t mean it, so Spencer ignored the feelings in his chest and let Brendon be happy. He needed it. It was his birthday and he’d just been reminded that his own parents didn’t want him. 

 

The three of them sat outside of the church for a while, until Spencer was shivering and Dallon suggested they head back to the apartment since everyone had to be up early in the morning. Brendon took ahold of Spencer’s hand as they walked back over to the van, and pulled Spencer into the backseat with him. Spencer didn’t know how to interpret that. As far as he knew, everything was okay between Derek and Brendon, and Brendon didn’t have feelings for Spencer. 

 

“You know you’re like family to us, right Bren?” Spencer said quietly. Some kind of precipitation was coming down now. It was messy and wet and it looked cold, but it wasn’t snow. “You’re a part of this as much as anyone in the band, and we’re all here for you.”

 

“I know,” Brendon said quietly back. He squeezed Spencer’s hand. “I wish it was different.”

 

“It might be, one day. They might come around,” Spencer said, but he wasn’t sure it was the truth. He was lucky to have two parents who accepted his gender and his sexuality, but that meant he had no idea what it was like to grow up with homophobic parents. Spencer didn’t want to know what it was like, because he’d seen the results in Ryan and Dallon and Brendon, and they weren’t pretty. Spencer still loved his friends, because he wasn’t an asshole, but he knew that they were fucked up because of their childhoods. 

 

“What if they don’t?” Brendon asked. 

 

Dallon and Spencer made eye contact in the rearview mirror. Dallon’s eyes were clear in the late night lights of the city. The shadows drew out the bags under their eyes, and Spencer was reminded of the night he first met Dallon, and how Dallon had been unexpectedly beautiful. They still were. There was just more depth to their attractiveness now. Dallon looked back at the road. “If they don’t, then you succeed anyway. It’s their loss, Brendon. You don’t owe your parents anything.”

 

Brendon nodded. He was quiet for the rest of the drive, but he didn’t let go of Spencer’s hand. Spencer didn’t know what any of this meant. He hoped that Ryan and Jon weren’t going to yell  _ Surprise! _ and throw confetti at Brendon like they’d originally planned. Brendon didn’t look like he was in the mood for much of a party. 

 

Dallon parked as close to the apartment building as they could, but the three of them still had to run through the sleet to get back inside. They huddled at the base of the stairs for a moment, shivering and laughing a little hysterically because all of this was just so ridiculous. It was April. They were all three from Las Vegas. It wasn’t supposed to still be sleeting and cold in April. 

 

Eventually they headed up to the apartment. Brendon wasn’t holding Spencer’s hand any more, but Spencer was fine with that. Brendon had just needed emotional support, and he was willing to give it to Brendon. They were friends. Friends were supportive of each other. 

 

Nothing happened when Spencer opened the door. Ryan ad Jon were on the couch, with Ryan laying across Jon’s lap. Derek wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Brendon waved at Jon and Ryan before pulling his sleet-soaked hoodie and work shirt over his head and disappearing into his bedroom. Spencer watched him disappear for a moment before joining Dallon, Jon, and Ryan in the living room area. 

 

“Where’d Derek go?” Dallon asked. 

 

“He left,” Jon said. Jon looked irritated, which was a bad sign because nothing irritated Jon. Jon was the calmest, most relaxed guy Spencer had ever met. Ryan was the opposite, but she looked like she was at peace with everything. For a moment, Spencer worried that the two of them had switched brains in some kind of freak weather accident. 

 

Dallon made a face. “Did he say why? Or did you two really scare him off?”

 

“Apparently AP coursework is more important than sticking around to make sure his boyfriend is doing okay,” Jon spat out. Spencer wrinkled his nose. Linda was an AP student, which was why she wasn’t hanging out at the apartment as much, but she’d still taken Brendon to the mall to let him pick out a birthday present. Linda and Brendon weren’t even that close, and she still gave more of a shit about Brendon’s birthday than his boyfriend.

 

Jon nodded in Spencer’s direction. “Me too, Spence.”

 

“Was I thinking out loud?”

 

“No, you just had a really pissed off look on your face, and I could relate,” Jon said. He shook his head. “Those two really need to sit down and sort out their priorities, or Brendon’s going to end up broken-hearted.”

 

“We’re not mentioning that Derek was here, by the way,” Ryan said. She was looking at Dallon when she spoke. “Not because we’re keeping shit from him. I saw his face when you three came back, and he did not look like he was having a good time. I don’t want to add to that, especially on his birthday.”

 

“We should still do something for him, even if the surprise is ruined,” Dallon said. “Nothing big. We can just grab some blankets watch shitty reality TV while eating cake. Brendon just doesn’t want to be alone right now.”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Ryan said. She sat up. “I’ll go grab the cake, you can go get Brendon. Jon, Spence, flip a coin. One of you can get blankets and the other can grab forks and shit for the cake.”

 

Spencer ended up getting the forks because the blankets were in Jon and Ryan’s room and Spencer didn’t want to know if they had sex stuff laying around in there. Ryan didn’t seem particularly kinky, but then again, she was Ryan and she’d once bought Spencer a dildo so he could get laid. She was a little unpredictable. 

 

She was also the worst at cutting cake, because the slices kept falling apart or sticking to the knife when she was trying to serve everyone. Brendon reached out and one point and carefully swiped his finger across the side of the knife to get all the cake off of it. Eventually everyone had cake, and they were all squished together under blankets on the couch. Spencer was on the edge, beside Dallon, and he leaned against them a little because Dallon was cozy.

 

“Happy birthday, Bren,” Jon said over the sounds of MTV in the background. “Sorry we didn’t do anything bigger.”

  
“This is fine,” Brendon said. Spencer leaned forward, and could see that Brendon was smiling down at his cake, like he was afraid to let anyone see that he was genuinely happy with things. Brendon swallowed. “I finally feel like I’m at home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, thanks for reading! Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed it! 
> 
> (And, since I probably won't update for a few weeks: happy birthday to IRL Brendon Urie)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you notice the little change I made in the tags/info section? Yeah, that's right, there are only two more chapters left after this one. And I know that this one is short, but I liked where I ended it so you're just going to have to deal. The next chapter's going to be fantastic, though. Trust me. 
> 
> Also, I have a plan for how and when to finish this, and if you've been paying attention to the dates (or are in the rarepair groupchat) then you might know what I'm talking about.
> 
> Let's just say that it'll have been fourteen years since X this summer.

**May 3, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Spencer was working the register that evening. The store was surprisingly busy for a Tuesday, but Spencer wasn’t complaining. It sucked not having anyone in the store, because then there was nothing to do and he could only read so many comics before he remembered why he hated comics. They were all so needlessly straight, and all of the girls looked uncomfortable. 

 

The bell over the door jingled, but Spencer didn’t pay a lot of attention to it. He was too busy checking out a trio of guys who looked like they had never seen a girl in their lives. Linda was probably avoiding them by hiding out in the stockroom. Spencer wished he could be with her, because these guys were obnoxious even though they saw Spencer as a guy.

 

Spencer was turned away from the trio, carefully packing their purchases into a bag when he heard one of them exclaim, “hey! No cutting in line!”

 

“I’m not buying anything, you fuckwits,” Ryan’s voice snapped back, and Spencer immediately looked up from the bags. She was standing there, holding a CD case Spencer had never seen before. It was signed by Pete and had the words  _ good luck, you’re next xoxo _ scrawled on under his signature. Ryan thrust the CD out at Spencer. “Guess who visited me in class today, Spence.”

 

“Is that a Fall Out Boy album?” Spencer asked. Sure enough, the band’s name had been printed into the curtain at the top of the album art. Spencer looked up at Ryan. “When did that happen?”

 

“Today,” Ryan said. “Which means we need to work our asses off and get the album done before Pete gets bored and leaves us behind. They’re gonna want to tour, and if Pete’s out touring, he can’t be here approving our album. Which means we’re screwed.”

 

“We’ll get the album done,” Spencer said. He turned back to the trio of guys who were still standing there, looking annoyed that their cashier was talking about something that didn’t involved comics or scantily clad fictional women. Spencer smiled at them and told them to have a good day, and then started ringing up the next people. He said, to Ryan, “I promise. We’re gonna be famous soon, and then Pete’ll be the one freaking out because he might lose his chance.”

 

* * *

 

**May 5, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

“I’ve got two questions,” Linda said, sitting down in her usual seat in front of Spencer. She handed him a coffee first, which was nice. “One, are you going to prom and are you taking anyone? Two, what exactly are you doing after we graduate in June?”

 

“That was three questions.”

 

“Shh, I’m bad at math,” Linda said, waving her hand in his face. She was in AP Calculus. She was not bad at math. “Answer the questions, I feel like I don’t know anything about you.”

 

“I don’t know if I’m going to prom, but probably not. I went last year as Ryan’s date and it wasn’t that fun, so I don’t see why here would be any different. I also don’t have a date, and I can’t take Ryan because she’s got a job and college and finals and all that.” Spencer took the coffee and attempted to drink from it, but it was still hot and he ended up burning his tongue a little. “And next year… I don’t know. Pete wants the album done as soon as possible, but we can’t work on it as much while we’re in school, so it’s going to take up most of my summer. I have no idea if I even want to go to college. I don’t know what I’d do.”

 

“It’s not for everyone,” Linda said. “My dad didn’t go to college and he’s cool with how his life turned out.”

 

“Hopefully the band will work and I’ll never have to take a boring cubicle job,” Spencer said. He didn’t think he was meant to sit at a desk and punch in numbers all day long. He’d get bored. He’d want to get up and move around, just so he wasn’t staring at his computer. 

 

“I don’t think anyone wants a boring cubicle job,” Linda said. She looked stressed and tired. Final exams weren’t for another month, but Linda was also taking AP exams, which were in only a few weeks. She’d been keeping her hair in a ponytail recently, and had started wearing glasses again. Spencer figured that she was doing that to save time, because Linda was always studying for something at this point. 

 

“Not to stress you out, but what are you doing next year?” Spencer asked. 

 

“It’s complicated,” Linda said, and sighed heavily. She took a long sip from her coffee before setting it down on her desk and turning around to fully face Spencer. “The University of Chicago is expensive, even with all of the military discounts and scholarships I’ve got, but I don’t have another option because I don’t qualify for in-state tuition in Texas anymore, and I haven’t lived here long enough to get in-state for Illinois.”

 

“Shit,” Spencer said. “What’re you gonna do?”

 

“I said yes to Chicago, since it’s nearby and I won’t have to--” Linda was cut off by someone swiping her coffee off of the desk and onto her and Spencer. Linda jumped up out of her seat and got in the guy’s face, staring him down. She looked from him down to her shirt, which was stained a light brown, and then back at him. She flared her shirt out at him. “You owe me a drink, and a new shirt, and I swear to God if I do not get them, I will come for your ass.”

 

It was at that moment that Spencer remembered Linda was originally from Texas. He’d known the whole time, and she still had a slight accent, but it was never in your face. Now, though, her drawl was thick and her stance was fierce. 

 

“Come on, sweetheart, don’t be so pissy,” the guy said in a condescending voice. He was smiling at her, like he thought the whole situation was funny. “It was an accident. I wouldn’t hurt you and your girlfriend. Besides, if I wanted to make you guys hot, I’d just ask you two to make out.”

 

A few guys whistled. Linda looked ready to punch the shit out of that guy, but Spencer didn’t want her to get in trouble for starting a fight. So, naturally, he took the lid off of his own coffee, nudged Linda out of the way, and hurled the coffee into the guy’s face, successfully splashing him and the two people he was standing in front of. Spencer slammed his empty cup against the desk and stood up, standing about an inch shorter than the guy, and said, “I’m not her girlfriend, no one exists for your sexual pleasure, and if you really want to start a fight, why don’t you hit the real guy here?”

 

The guy wiped his face to get the coffee off. He dropped his backpack to the coffee-drenched floor and then shoved Spencer back. “You think you’re a guy? Just because you cut your hair like a dyke and don’t have tits? What the fuck is wrong with you, you ugly ass tranny?”

 

Spencer stood up, but didn’t hit him. He knew that the only way to get this guy in trouble without hurting himself was to have him throw the first punch. Spencer narrowed his eyes. “Say that again. I fucking dare you.”

 

“You’re just a pussy with a pussy, aren’t you?” he said. “You can’t fight. You can’t do shit.”

 

“Try me,” Spencer said, lifting his chin. He was scared, because he’d been in this situation before and he knew it didn’t end well, but he was also really pissed off. Was this what he and Linda got for starting a GSA? Was this their reward for giving kids a chance to express themselves and be open with their sexuality? Really? Spencer wasn’t a faceless gay kid anymore. He was someone. He had a school club under his name and he was in an openly queer band. He stepped up so that his face was only a few inches from the guys face. “I’ve got nothing to lose.”

 

The guy stepped back and then punched Spencer, right in the face. Spencer’s face throbbed, but he turned back to the guy and kicked at him, hitting the side of his knee so that he stumbled. The guy grabbed Spencer and threw him down onto the floor. Spencer’s head banged against the linoleum floor, and he could hear people cheering and screaming in the background. The guy jumped down on top of Spencer but Spencer rolled away, wiggling out from under the guy before he could do anything except punch Spencer’s hip bone. 

 

Spencer kicked at him, hitting the guy repeatedly in the ribs. He grabbed the guy’s hair and pushed him away before standing back up. 

 

“Both of you, back away now,” a voice boomed from the front of the room. Spencer jumped, but he didn’t look away from the guy. He was too scared to. 

 

The guy started backing up, though, putting his hands in the air. “I didn’t start it, I swear. This girl just flipped out on me! She’s fucking crazy!”

 

“Stop calling Spencer a girl,” Linda spat. She was still standing, still covered in coffee and quivering with anger. She turned around towards the school officials who were standing at the front of the classroom. Linda pushed her glasses up her nose. “Sir, what happened was this: that guy took my coffee and threw it on me, before making lewd and suggestive comments about my friend Spencer and I. Spencer did throw coffee, but only to get the attention away from me so that I wouldn’t end up in the brawl. Spencer was hit, and he defended himself.”

 

“Thank you, Miss,” the official said. He turned his attention to Spencer and the other guy, and motioned with his finger for both of them to follow him. “Both of you are coming to me to the principal’s office. Start saying your prayers now, because I see no reason for either of you to finish out the year.”

 

Spencer and the guy followed the school official out silently. Spencer rubbed his cheek as the three of them walked through the hallways of the school. His face was throbbing, but he wasn’t bleeding anywhere, which was good. He and the other guy were put in seperate offices, probably so they wouldn’t start fighting again. There was no one else in the office that Spencer had been put in, so he just sat in the chair and looked around the room. 

 

He really hoped his mom wouldn’t find out about this. Ryan would find out, because she lived with Spencer and there was no way he could hide getting punched in the face from her. She’d be pissed, though, that Spencer got in a fight for a stupid reason. 

 

“Mr. Smith,” a woman’s voice said from behind him. Spencer turned around in his chair to see a middle aged woman with greying honey brown hair and thin lips staring down at him from behind her glasses. She was dressed in a suit and kitten heels. She moved around to the other side of the desk and sat down, dropping a file folder between them. “Your file hasn’t been updated since you moved here. The phone number and address for your parent or guardian is for a location in Nevada.”

 

_ They don’t know I’m here without my parents _ , Spencer thought. He swallowed. “My parents and I had a falling out because I’m trans. I’m currently living with my older brother Dallon, but he’s at work now. He’s my legal guardian.”

 

“Well, what’s your brother’s phone number and address?” she asked. The plaque on her desk read  _ Dorothy Andrews _ . “We need to call him and have him come in so that we can discuss your future here at Kenwood, and whether or not you will be expelled.”

 

“I didn’t start the fight,” Spencer said. Ms. Andrews raised an eyebrow at him, and Spencer knew it didn’t matter that he hadn’t started the fight. He was still in deep shit. He sighed and deflated. “I can give you Dallon’s phone number.”

 

“Thank you Mr. Smith,” Ms. Andrews said. She handed Spencer a pad of sticky notes and a fountain pen, and Spencer scribbled down Dallon’s cell phone number before handing them back. Ms. Andrews looked it over, pushing her glasses up her nose as she did. She nodded, and picked up the phone she had on her desk. She was still glaring at Spencer as she dialled the number and waited for Dallon to pick up, and that pissed Spencer off. So what if he’d gotten in a fight? The other guy had started it, and he was more of a dick than Spencer was. 

 

“Hello, this is Dorothy Andrews, the principal of Kenwood Academy,” she said into the phone. “Is this Dallon Smith, Spencer’s guardian?”

 

Spencer held his breath, hoping that Dallon would just play along and pretend that they were related to Spencer. 

 

“Yes, this is about Spencer,” Ms. Andrews said. “He and another student were in an altercation earlier this morning, and we would appreciate having you come down to the school so that we can discuss what disciplinary actions should be taken to sort everything out. I’m sorry to have to interrupt your work day, Mr. Smith, but this is of utmost urgency.”

 

She hung up the phone and folded her fingers together on top of her desk. “Your brother will be here soon. Until then, you are to wait here, and not get yourself into any more trouble. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes ma’am,” Spencer said. He didn’t have anywhere else to go. Ms. Andrews left him alone in her office, probably to go yell at the other guy. As soon as the door clicked closed behind her, Spencer whipped out his phone and sent a text to Dallon, explaining what was going on so Dallon didn’t blow Spencer’s cover when they showed up. 

 

He also had a text from Linda:  _ whered they take u + r u in trouble _ . Spencer updated her, and she responded to tell him that everyone was talking about the fight now. Word spread fast in high school, and Spencer was super thankful that Ryan was at college now. If she was in the same school as him, she’d be bursting through the office door to yell at both Spencer and the principal. 

 

The door opened and Spencer quickly shoved his phone into his pocket before turning around in his seat. Dallon came in, followed by Ms. Andrews. Dallon was looking at Spencer strangely, like they couldn’t tell if they were proud of him or embarrassed. Spencer hoped it was the former.

 

“Please sit down, Mr. Smith,” Ms. Andrews said as she resumed her seat at the other side of the desk. Dallon grabbed a chair and sat down beside Spencer. Ms. Andrews looked down at the two of them from behind her glasses, silently blaming Dallon as well for Spencer getting in a fight. “As I told you over the phone, your… brother… got into an altercation with another student this morning, including throwing hot coffee at the young man.”

 

Dallon turned to Spencer, their brows furrowed. “Really?”

 

“He knocked Linda’s coffee on her first,” Spencer said. 

 

“That doesn’t matter,” the principal said. “Mr. Gibbons’ actions are not being considered in this room. We’re here to focus on you, and how you escalated the situation instead of getting a teacher or faculty member to step in between Mr. Gibbons and your friend. I know that you’re new here, but you were here on the first day of classes and so surely you heard what the rule and expectations are for our students.”

 

Spencer slouched down in his seat and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

 

“Good,” Ms. Andrews said. She pushed her glasses up her nose and turned to face Dallon. “Now, Mr. Smith, let’s discuss your brother’s future here.”

 

* * *

 

**May 6, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Spencer was suspended for five days. It was a Friday, and Spencer didn’t have to go to work until four, so he thought that he would get to sleep in for once. 

 

“Spence, get the fuck up,” Ryan said from above him, and then promptly dropped a pillow on his face. Spencer tossed it off and turned over onto his back to glare up at Ryan. She was already dressed and ready to go to whatever classes she had that day. Ryan rolled her eyes before bending over and grabbing the pillow from the floor. “You’re going to college with me, come on.”

 

“What?” Spencer said, sitting up and holding his blanket to his chest. “Why?”

 

“Because you’re an impulsive piece of shit and I don’t trust you alone in the apartment,” Ryan said. “Also I want someone to complain about straight people with, and Jon and I don’t have the same breaks on Friday.”

 

“Jon’s not straight?” Spencer asked. 

 

Ryan tossed him a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. “Obviously not. Do you really think I’d date a straight person after all the shit I went through in high school? Those girls didn’t know what they were missing out on. I’m better in bed than any  _ boy  _ they could ever meet, and now they’re all just missing out.”

 

Spencer couldn’t argue with that. He changed once Ryan had left him alone and ran a comb through his hair so that it didn’t look too bad. Ryan and Jon were waiting out in the living room. , but they got up and headed towards the door as soon as Spencer came over. Spencer shook his head and dropped his sunglasses down, following the couple out of the apartment and down the two flights of stairs. It was cool out without being hot, which was a relief. Spencer never thought he would miss the hot summer days of Las Vegas, but Chicago was fucking cold. 

 

The three of them took the bus to campus. Spencer expected Jon to split off to go to wherever his first class was, but he took Ryan’s hand and the three of them walked into the Starbucks that was attached to the library. 

 

“Don’t you guys have class?” Spencer asked. 

 

Jon glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah, but not for another hour. Ryan and I always get coffee on Friday mornings.”

 

“Oh great, now I’m third wheeling,” Spencer said. Jon laughed, and Spencer couldn’t help smiling too. He’d never felt like a third wheel with Ryan and Jon. Friday morning coffees weren’t going to change that. 

 

The three of them got up to the counter and ordered their coffees. Ryan paid for Spencer’s even though Spencer had money and would have paid for his own. Apparently there was a student discount or something. Spencer was too busy being bitter that Ryan had paid for him to pay attention to what she said. 

 

He let it go easily enough, because the frappe was delicious and it was nice to get to sit outside and not have to worry about someone coming up and kicking his and Ryan’s schoolwork everywhere. That had happened a lot when they were in high school, even before Ryan was outed. High schoolers just hated people who were different, it seemed, and Ryan stuck out like a sore thumb most of the time. Spencer liked that about her. She was her own person, and if people didn’t get her, they didn’t get her.

 

“What’re you thinking about?” Jon asked. He’d somehow figured out how to drink his iced coffee while laying across Ryan’s lap. Spencer was impressed.

 

“This seems a lot better than high school,” Spencer said. “Maybe I should have applied to college.”

 

“Too late now,” Jon said, lifting his sunglasses up over his eyebrows. They were really ugly sunglasses, too. “You’re in a band now.”

 

“Darn,” Spencer said, snapping his fingers. “How unfortunate. I really picked the wrong life path, didn’t I?”

 

* * *

 

**May 20, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

No one was paying attention in class that day. It was the day before prom, and all of the seniors were too excited to get anything done. The teachers weren’t trying to keep people focused either, so everyone was just goofing off or watching movies in class. It was the last period of the day, and Spencer and Linda had managed to grab two desks at the back of the classroom. 

 

“I really wish you were going to prom,” Linda said. “I know you don’t have a date, and I do, but I still feel like I’m going to be alone. Most of my friends here are underclassmen.”

 

“I could always come to your house and help you get ready?” Spencer offered. It’s what he would have done for Ryan if she’d wanted to put on a dress and heels and show up to prom looking amazing. The band wouldn’t be rehearsing that evening either, because Brendon was going to prom with Derek and they needed him for practice to work. 

 

Linda raised her eyebrows. “Seriously? You want to come hang out with me while I do my hair and makeup for two hours?”

 

“I’m best friends with Ryan,” Spencer said. “I’m used to it.”

 

“Sweet,” Linda said. “I’ll tell my mom you’re coming over tomorrow. Oh, by the way, Sarah’s gonna be there too, but my parents have no idea I’m gay so Sarah’s just a friend that’s coming to prom with me. If they ask, of course.”

 

“Right, got it,” Spencer said, nodding. He hated that Linda had to lie to her parents about who Sarah was, but he understood completely. Linda’s parents were religious, and from the south, and they weren’t the friendliest people towards gays. Her parents were nice aside from the whole homophobia thing. 

 

The bell rang, finally, and Spencer and Linda grabbed their stuff before heading outside. It still wasn’t hot, even though school let out in a month, and Spencer was starting to worry that Chicago never got above seventy degrees. Jane had given the both of them Friday and Saturday off, and Spencer had been too stunned to admit that he wasn’t going to prom at all, and would probably spend Saturday night watching TV with Ryan, Jon, and Dallon. 

 

“Are you meeting up with Brendon?” Spencer asked while he and Linda were waiting at the bus stop. Brendon had not been able to get Friday off, and so he’d already left for his shift. “For prom, I mean. The four of you could go together?”

 

Linda shook her head. “No offense to Brendon, but I can’t stand his boyfriend. I don’t know why, but there’s just something about him that rubs me the wrong way.”

 

“I wouldn’t know, but I’ll take your word for it,” Spencer said. The truth was that he couldn’t seperate his feelings of jealousy from anything else he thought about Derek. He could only see Derek as the one who got to date Brendon. It was gross, because Spencer had had his chance and he’d messed up, but he still wanted to be with Brendon. He wanted to get to walk down the halls in school holding Brendon’s hand, and give him flowers occasionally to surprise him. 

 

“You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?” Linda said as they got on the bus. 

 

Spencer nodded, and sighed. “I know. I’m pathetic.”

 

“Not really,” Linda said. “Most people don’t have to keep living with their ex while he moves on to a new guy. You’re allowed to be sad and jealous and all that shit.”

 

“But we were never  _ dating _ ,” Spencer argued. “There was never a label or anything, we just made out and went on late night adventures with each other. It was just supposed to be casual, and now I’m thinking about him while riding a fucking bus.”

 

* * *

 

**May 21, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Spencer had forgotten how stressful it was getting ready with a girl. Linda wasn’t even half as bad as Ryan, but her girlfriend was there too and they were both nervous and over-excited. The three of them were in Linda’s parents’ bathroom. Spencer was sitting on the edge of the tub while Linda and Sarah were standing in front of the sink. They were in their dresses, and looked great, but Linda was trying to get her hair into this weird braid bun thing and there were a terrifying amount of bobby pins lying about.

 

“Do you need help?” Spencer asked Sarah. He was hoping she’d say no, because he had no idea what he was doing either. Ryan’s hair had never been long enough for something like what Linda was going for, and Spencer had never done anything with his hair when it was long. 

 

“No, I’ve got it,” Sarah said. “It’s going to take a bit--babe. Stop moving your head or I’m actually going to stab you.”

 

“Sorry,” Linda said. She winced as Sarah pulled at her hair to start wrapping it around her head. “I had no idea fancy hairstyles hurt this much. I should have just left it down.”

 

“Too late now,” Sarah said. She flipped her hair out of her face without using her hands. She craned her neck back to look at all of the hair supplies and makeup that they’d dumped on the sink counter. “Okay, Spencer, I lied. Can you grab me the bottle of hairspray? It’s the dark red one.”

 

“I know what hairspray looks like,” he said, and handed the bottle over. Sarah accepted it and stuck her tongue out at him before starting to spray around Linda’s head. Linda’s hair looked cool, like some kind of royalty from the middle ages, but Spencer didn’t think the look was worth all of the time she and Sarah had had to put into it. 

 

Their makeup didn’t take as long. Sarah was some kind of makeup expert, and Linda wasn’t doing anything dramatic with her face so it only took her about twenty minutes to get everything right. After they were done with everything, the girls grabbed their little purses and their shoes and headed downstairs to where Linda’s mom was waiting with a camera. Spencer followed, texting Ryan that he was close to being ready to leave.

 

Ryan showed up in the Brobecks van while Linda’s mom was still taking pictures. She let herself in through the garage and joined Spencer on the edge of the sofa. She looked tired, and was drinking coffee. Ryan had only started drinking coffee regularly since they’d moved to Chicago. 

 

“I didn’t realise how long this was going to take,” Spencer said. “Mom took like five pictures and ten let us go.”

 

“Well, your mom is strangely casual about most things, so I’m not surprised,” Ryan said. “Jon convinced Pete to give him the night off, so he and I are going out tonight. It’ll just be you and Dallon tonight.”

 

“Sweet,” Spencer said. He reached over and snatched Ryan’s coffee, taking a sip from it. It was some sweet Starbucks thing, and it was almost too sweet to enjoy. He handed it back and slid further down the couch. Linda’s mom had taken the girls outside for more photographs. “Dallon and I are gonna throw a huge party, wreck the entire apartment, and bring in a bunch of strippers. It’ll be fucking awesome, and you and Jon are gonna miss out.”

 

Ryan wiggled her eyebrows. “I can imagine.”

 

Sarah, Linda, and Linda’s mom finally came back from outside. Linda’s mom offered Ryan something to drink or eat, but Ryan declined, using her coffee as an excuse. Spencer ended up in a picture with Linda and Sarah, posed in between them. Linda’s mom wanted the girls to act like they were both dating Spencer, but they couldn’t do it. The picture ended up being the three of them making ugly faces at the camera while throwing up peace signs. Linda thought it was hilarious.

 

She hugged Ryan and Spencer goodbye before they split to go in different directions. Sarah took Linda’s hand once Linda’s mom was back in the house and out of sight.

 

“I hope they have more fun than we did,” Ryan said as she walked around to the driver’s side of the van. She and Spencer got in, and Ryan turned the van on, letting the sounds of Duran Duran fill the space in between them. Considering some of the other tracks Dallon had on CD,  _ Girls on Film _ , wasn’t the worst thing to listen to. 

 

Spencer turned it up a little. “I don’t know. We had fun, just not while we were actually at prom. Maybe it’s easier if you’re cis and the whole school doesn’t hate you.”

 

“Didn’t you and Linda almost get in a fight with a guy literally last week?” Ryan asked. She was driving with both hands, leaving the last few inches of her coffee to get cold in the cupholders between the seats. 

 

Spencer flipped her off. “It was two weeks ago, shut the hell up. And that’s not the whole school, it was one guy. Maybe a group of people, I don’t know. But people actually like us at school now, so Sarah and Linda are probably going to have more fun dancing and drinking fruit punch than we did.”

 

Ryan nodded, and turned the volume up a little more. She was jealous. Spencer could see it in the way she tapped her thumbs against the side of the steering wheel and tried to make it look like she wasn’t frowning. Ryan never got to be a carefree kid, and even her senior prom had been ruined because she was trans and bisexual. She was happy now, Spencer knew that, but she was never going to get back her teenage years. She would never get to be a kid, or look back on her childhood and get to laugh at all the things she did. 

 

Ryan had to grow up before everyone else. Her dad wasn’t there for her, and she didn’t fit in with most people. For Ryan, moving to Chicago had never been a choice. It was something she had to do, if she was ever going to make it out of adolescence in one piece. Spencer had just tagged along because he was afraid of being left alone with their bullies. He had a support system at home. Ryan didn’t have anything. 

 

“We’re some really unlucky people, aren’t we?” Spencer said.

 

“What do you mean?” Ryan asked. “We’re in a band, with a record deal, and one of our first fans was Pete Wentz. You can’t get much luckier than that.”

 

“Yeah, but you’ve got a shitty dad, Dallon’s best friend killed herself, Brendon’s parents basically ex-communicated him because he was into guys, and I don’t know what Jon’s dealing with--”

 

“Jon’s not dealing with anything,” Ryan said. “Despite what you think, and what it seems, most people don’t have traumatic childhoods. Most people go off to college because they want to get a degree and a job, not because they’re afraid to go home after school lets out.”

 

“Maybe we’re just lucky because we got out,” Spencer said. 

 

Dallon and Jon were both in the apartment when Ryan and Spencer got back. Ryan left the three of them in the main area to go change clothes, and then she and Jon left to go on their date. Spencer dropped down on the couch and kicked his shoes off, letting them fly towards the wall. He curled up on the couch, draping his arms over the back of it. “So, Dallon, what wild shenanigans are we getting up to tonight?”

 

“I went to Blockbuster and got the Star Wars trilogy,” Dallon said. They walked around the couch, toeing Spencer’s shoes out of the way as they walked, and sat down in front of the TV to put in the first film. Dallon glanced over their shoulder, flashing a smile at Spencer that made his heart swoon. “And it’s the original trilogy, not the prequels that they’re trying to get us into.”

 

“I didn’t expect the prequels. Your taste is better than that,” Spencer said. He moved so that he was only taking up half of the couch. “Didn’t part three  _ just _ come out, too? How would you even get the DVD of something that just came out in theatres?”

 

Dallon wiggled their eyebrows as they came over to join Spencer on the couch. “I have my ways. But I like the classics more than the new trilogy.”

 

“Me too,” Spencer said. He and Dallon settled into the couch, their legs leaned against each other. It was comfortable, and it was fun to watch a movie with someone and it not be a date. When Spencer got up and made popcorn, he and Dallon could throw it at each other’s mouths and it wasn’t weird. Spencer could yell at the characters even though he knew how it ended, and Dallon could quote the movie while it unfolded without getting stared at. 

 

They paused it before  _ Empire Starts Back _ to make some real food. The problem was that no one had gone grocery shopping in a while, so all they had to work with was a box of pasta, half a bag of frozen broccoli, and some pasta sauce, still in the jar. It didn’t turn out too bad, and Spencer got to eat pasta out of a bowl, so that was an added bonus. 

 

Luke was about to lose his hand when the door to the apartment opened. Dallon reached out and paused the movie, and then both of them turned around to see who it was. Spencer was expecting Ryan and Jon, since they were only going out for dinner, but it was Brendon. 

 

He was dressed in a suit and he’d slicked his hair back to try and look formal. He was holding his hand to his chest, and there was a small rip in his suit lapel from where the flower boutonniere had been ripped off. His face was red and tear-stained, and his lower lip quivered as he took in Spencer and Dallon watching him from the couch.

 

“Bren, what happened?” Dallon asked quietly. They stood up from the couch, making an aborted movement toward Brendon before stopping to just stand awkwardly beside the couch instead. 

 

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked. It was a stupid question to ask, but it was out of Spencer’s mouth before he could stop himself. 

 

Brendon shook his head. He opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a sharp cry. Brendon covered his mouth with his hands and ducked away into his room, slamming the door behind him. Spencer looked up at Dallon. He didn’t know Brendon well enough to know what to do. Obviously, he wanted to go in there and check on Brendon. Not everyone wanted company when they were upset, though. Sometimes when Ryan was upset she’d come over just to lock herself in Spencer’s room and Spencer would have to wait outside so that Ryan could cry in peace. 

 

Usually, though, Ryan wanted Spencer there with her, because he was the only person who would listen to her without trying to make her do something. He believed her when she talked about the things her dad did. Most people didn’t.

 

“I’ll go check on him,” Dallon said. Spencer nodded, and dropped back down onto the couch. He watched Brendon’s bedroom door, wishing he was in there consoling Brendon but knowing that he wasn’t needed. Brendon had Dallon. Those two had been through a lot together, and Spencer wasn’t mad about Brendon wanting to talk only to Dallon. Dallon knew parts of Brendon that Spencer had never seen before. 

 

A few minutes later, Spencer could hear the two of them shouting at each other, and he was up and knocking on the door before he realised what he was doing. He swung the door open and almost hit Dallon in the face. Spencer stepped back. “What’s going on?”

 

“I’m going out for a drive,” Dallon said. Their voice was low, and angry, and Spencer stepped out of their way without knowing what was going on. Brendon was scrambling to catch up to Dallon, his suit jacket in his hands and his bowtie undone around his neck. Dallon turned around at the door. “You two stay here.”

 

“No,” Spencer said. “Not unless you tell me what the fuck is going on. I heard you two yelling in there, so what happened.”

 

“I caught Derek cheating on me,” Brendon said quietly. His voice wobbled when he spoke, and he looked like he was about to fall down onto the floor and start crying again. A sharp anger coursed through Spencer, and he considered letting Dallon go out to do whatever they needed to do. Brendon leaned forward and buried his face into Spencer’s shoulder. “He was… he was getting blown by someone else in the bathroom, and he told me he wouldn’t have had to if I would just put out more. I didn’t even know there was a problem. I thought I was good.”

 

“You’re not a fucking sex toy for someone to use,” Dallon snapped. Brendon startled, his hands shaking against Spencer. Dallon was too angry for this. Spencer got it, really, he did. He’d seen Ryan get cheated on and dumped and called horrible shit all because she put up boundaries and wouldn’t go drinking with her date. 

 

Spencer rubbed Brendon’s shoulder. “Dal, I don’t think you should be going out right now. I wanna go punch something too, but you’re beyond pissed.”

 

“Dallon, you can go punch Derek in the face if you want to,” Brendon said. He lifted his head from Spencer’s shoulder. “I don’t mind.”

 

“Seriously?” Spencer frowned. “Is this really a good idea? I literally just got off of suspension from getting in a fight with a dude.”

 

“It’s not, but it’s what he deserves,” Dallon said. Brendon nodded, and Spencer had to agree. Derek had cheated--full on cheating, not just kissing some other person. That wasn’t okay. 

 

“Okay, fine. We’ll go beat up your ex boyfriend on prom night,” Spencer said. He and Dallon went to grab their shoes before joining Brendon and heading out of the building. Of course, Ryan and Jon had taken the Brobecks van, so the three of them had to walk to the bus stop. Brendon knew where Derek lived, and it took them forty-five minutes to get there. 

 

Dallon was calm by the time the three of them walked up to Derek’s house. According to Brendon, his car wasn’t in the driveway, so he wasn’t back from prom yet. Brendon sat down on the edge of the street and stared out at the road. Dallon and Spencer looked at each other for a moment before sitting down on either side of Brendon to wait for his ex to return. 

 

“What are we going to do when he gets here?” Dallon asked. In the distance, Spencer heard the familiar sound of an ambulance siren, getting louder before fading off into the night again. There was yelling coming from a few streets over, and a dog started barking. The lights in the house across the street flipped on, and a car blew by, headlights flashing up and down the street.

 

“I don’t really care,” Brendon said. “Just don’t kill him.”

 

Dallon nodded. Spencer was planning to let Dallon do whatever they needed, and only jump in if things started to get bad. Dallon had about six inches on Derek anyway, so Spencer wasn’t too worried. And if Dallon didn’t give the fucker a black eye, Spencer would do it himself. Brendon deserved better than to be someone’s throwaway sex toy.

 

The road was lit up again as headlights came towards the three of them. The car pulled up the driveway, and Brendon narrowed his eyes at it. “That’s him.”

 

Dallon stood up and walked over towards the car. They took their time, hands loose by their sides and their face relaxed. Spencer stood up slowly, not sure if he should follow Dallon over or not. Brendon took Spencer’s hand, standing behind him and taking shaky breaths. Spencer squeezed Brendon’s hand as the driver’s side door to the car opened and Derek got out, facing Dallon. 

 

Derek frowned. “Do I know you?”

 

“I’m a longtime friend of Brendon’s,” Dallon said. Spencer was standing in a position where he could still see Derek’s face, so he got the pleasure of seeing the exact moment Derek caught up to what was going on. His eyes flicked over to where Spencer and Brendon were standing. Without letting go of Brendon’s hand, Spencer lifted his chin and wiggled his fingers at Derek in a sarcastic little wave. Derek’s eyes widened and he turned his attention back to Dallon. Dallon stepped in closer, less than a foot from Derek. “I’ve got a few words for you.”

 

“Dude, seriously, you don’t have to do anything, it was all a misunderstanding--” Derek’s words ended in a surprised yelp as Dallon grabbed him by his shoulders and threw him against the side of the car. 

 

Dallon pressed their arm against Derek’s chest and glared down at them. Spencer could barely see either of their faces in the darkness, but he could tell that Derek was scared shitless. Spencer grinned. Good. It was what he deserved.

 

“Don’t talk to me,” Dallon hissed. “I know what you did. Brendon told me everything.”

 

They shifted how they were restraining Derek, and that was when Spencer noticed that Derek’s toes were just barely scraping against the ground. Dallon was holding Derek a few inches off the ground with only their arm and the leverage of the car. Spencer wasn’t sure if what he was feeling was gay or not, since Dallon wasn’t a guy, but he knew he was feeling some intense attraction towards Dallon during that moment.

 

Dallon grabbed Derek’s face with their other hand. “What you did was shit. And if you try and win Brendon back or come crawling over for forgiveness, I will come back here and I will put my fist through your face. You do not hurt my friends. Do you understand?”

 

Derek nodded. Dallon stepped back and let him drop back down onto the ground. They glared down at Derek for a moment before turning away and walking back towards Spencer and Brendon. Spencer frowned. Was that it? Dallon just walked up to the guy and threatened him without doing anything? Spencer had expected more. 

 

Dallon shoved their hands into the pockets of their jeans. “You two ready to go?”

 

“That’s it?” Brendon whispered. “I thought you were actually going to do something to him.”

 

Spencer let go of Brendon’s hand. “I’ll be right back.”

 

He walked over to Derek, who had turned around to grab something from his car. “Hey asshole!”

  
Derek turned around, and Spencer punched him, right in the nose. He heard something crack, and Derek doubled over, clutching his face and swearing under his breath. Spencer crossed his arms over his chest. “Talk to Brendon ever again and I’ll break something other than your nose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No it's not Petekey I'm not that deep into the lore (I'm close though).
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed! I really do appreciate them!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many things happen!! Also this is the second to last chapter and let me tell you guys... when Spencer/Dallon/Brendon FINALLY get their shit together, I'm going to be screaming and crying tears of joy too. I'm literally shaking my laptop and telling them to just kiss, that's how frustrating these fuckers are.

**May 30, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

_ Dallon was laying across Spencer’s bed, looking up at him as Spencer fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. Dallon sat up, suddenly, and pulled Spencer down for a kiss. Spencer kissed back, threading his hands through Dallon’s hair. He could get the shirt off later. Dallon’s mouth was more important right now.  _

 

_ Spencer climbed back onto his bed. He straddled Dallon, pressing his hips against Dallon’s and moaning a little.  Dallon leaned back, pulling Spencer down on top of them. Spencer kissed and bit at Dallon’s lips, and Dallon let out little noises, their hands on Spencer’s hips, holding him down. Spencer wasn’t going anywhere. It was just him and Dallon in the apartment, and he planned to make the most of it.  _

 

_ “I’ve wanted to do this since I met you,” Spencer whispered against Dallon’s neck. He meant it. Dallon was gorgeous, and Spencer really, really wanted him. He trailed his hands up under Dallon’s shirt, pressing his short nails against Dallon’s stomach and scratching gently. Dallon gasped, pressing up into Spencer’s touch, and pulled him up for another kiss. They didn’t try to flip Spencer over and get on top of him, even though they were older and taller. Spencer appreciated that. He didn’t like being under people. It made him feel like a girl, which was stupid, but he couldn’t help it.  _

 

_ Dallon sat the two of them back up so that they could undo the buttons on Spencer’s shirt for him. Spencer wasn’t sure why he was wearing a button down shirt. They were too complicated and annoying. Dallon kissed across his collarbone, biting small marks into Spencer’s pale skin. “That’s a long time to wait for one person.” _

 

_ “I thought you were worth it,” Spencer said, before taking off Dallon’s shirt so that they were back to being equal. Spencer still had his binder on, but it only covered his chest. That was all Spencer needed it to cover, because that was the only thing wrong with him. He wasn’t supposed to have boobs. He’d liked to have been born with a dick, but it wasn’t the end of the world that he didn’t have one.  _

 

_ Dallon ran their hands up and down Spencer’s back, kissing gently at the exposed skin on his chest. They slid their hands down into the back of Spencer’s pants, and Spencer let out a small whimper when Dallon squeezed his ass and pulled him back flush against their erection. Spencer pulled Dallon’s head up, holding their face in his hands and squeezing his cheeks a little. Dallon’s pupils were blown wide, their lips red and parted, and their irises glowing electric blue. Spencer kissed them again, biting at Dallon’s lower lip and rolling his hips against theirs.  _

 

_ “Spence,” Dallon groaned out against Spencer’s mouth.  _

 

_ “I want to fuck you,” Spencer said. He’d never been that great at dirty talk, but Dallon didn’t seem to mind. They sat up, unbuttoning their jeans and pushing them--and their underwear--down around their thighs. Dallon sat back, taking their jeans and underwear all the way off and tossing them onto the floor alongside Spencer’s other dirty clothes. They pulled Spencer back down on top of them, and as he made out with Dallon, he could feel the hard head of their cock against his stomach.  _

 

_ Fuck, Spencer was desperate. He reached down between himself and undid his own pants, sliding them off along with his boxers. He was naked, hovering above Dallon, and trying to keep his arms from shaking from how turned on he was. Dallon was hot. Dallon was hot and a good kisser and Spencer wanted to have sex with them until they both passed out from exhaustion.  _

 

_ He kissed down Dallon’s neck, biting a bit at the base and then biting down harder when Dallon moaned under them. Their head was thrown back and their mouth was open, and they were the most attractive person Spencer had seen in that moment. _

 

“Spencer,” Ryan said, her voice injecting itself into Spencer’s dream. Spencer jerked awake, yanking his covers up to around his neck. His heart was pounding in his chest and he was still turned on. Ryan was once again standing beside Spencer’s bed and looking down at him with a cocky smile on her face. She thought this was funny. “Morning, sunshine. Go jack off in the shower. You’ve still got school.”

 

“What the fuck, Ryan,” Spencer said. 

 

“You were making sex noises in your sleep,” Ryan shrugged. Spencer hated her. “You also said Dallon’s name a few times. So. How long has  _ that  _ been a thing?”

 

“I’m not fucking Dallon while you and Jon are off being domestic,” Spencer said. He pulled the blankets tighter around himself and considered never leaving his bed ever again. 

 

Ryan rolled her eyes. “I know that. I meant how long have you had the hots for Dallon? I thought you were still busy missing Brendon.”

 

“I can do both,” Spencer said. “And I don’t have the  _ hots  _ for Dallon, what the hell. They’re attractive, I like them, but they’re not going to date me, and that’s fine. I’m only seventeen, I’ll find someone eventually.”

 

Ryan reached out and ruffled Spencer’s hair before leaving him alone to do what he needed. Spencer did end up masturbating in the shower, because he was still horny and he couldn’t get those images of Dallon stretched out on his bed out of his mind. It was kind of annoying, because Spencer lived with Dallon and so Dallon was everywhere. Spencer, for once in his life, was a little glad he didn’t have a dick. It’d be pretty obvious that he was awkwardly aroused for that entire morning. 

 

It was more manageable once he got to school and Dallon wasn’t there for Spencer to stare at. He still felt like everything was suffocating him, though, which sucked. 

 

There weren’t any air conditioners in the school, because apparently Chicago didn’t care enough about it’s students to keep them from sweating to death. It didn’t matter that Spencer, Linda, and Brendon were all from somewhere way hotter than Chicago. The rooms were still stuffy and everyone was too wired for summer to pay attention. 

 

“I’m about to fall asleep,” Linda said, propping her head up on her hand and then sinking back down into her seat. “This is ridiculous.”

 

“This wouldn’t be a problem if it wasn’t so fucking hot,” Brendon said. Now that he and Derek were no longer a thing, Brendon was sitting behind Spencer and Linda in the one class that all three of them had together. He dramatically draped himself over his desk so that his head was resting on Spencer’s shoulder and his shirt was riding up to show a good four inches of his back. 

 

Spencer rolled his eyes and pushed Brendon off of him. “Dude, you’re gross. Go sweat on someone else’s shoulder.”

 

Linda sat up. “Don’t even try, Urie. I’ll slap you.”

 

“Both of you suck,” Brendon said, sticking his lower lip out and pouting up at the two of them. They were supposed to be working on the in class assignment they’d been given, but Linda had gotten it done in the first fifteen minutes of the class period and given her answers to Brendon and Spencer. Linda was the best, really. Spencer was so tired of having to do schoolwork, especially now that Fall Out Boy had a new album out and Pete didn’t have anything better to do than ask Ryan how Panic!’s album was coming along.

 

“No, the north just doesn’t know how to deal with the heat,” Linda said. 

 

“Spencer, Linda, Brendon, are you three working on your assignment or are you just goofing off?” The teacher said. She was looming over the three of them with her eyebrows raised high in disappointment. Spencer smiled and held up his finished classwork, and Linda and Brendon did the same. The teacher took Spencer’s and looked it over for a few seconds before handing it back to him and nodding. “Well, if you three are going to just sit around doing nothing, you might as well leave.”

 

“What?” Linda asked, recoiling back in her seat.

 

“You’re disrupting the classroom environment,” the teacher said, which was a lie. Everyone else was talking amongst themselves while they worked. The only difference was that Spencer, Brendon, and Linda had gotten their work done before doing other things. The teacher didn’t care about that, though, and folded her arms over her chest. “Take your stuff, and go sit outside. Maybe then you’ll stop being so distracting.”

 

“We weren’t--” Brendon started to say, but then stopped when Spencer turned around and glared at him. It didn’t matter if they were in the hallway or in their seats; they weren’t going to be doing anything of importance either way. Brendon nodded and turned to start packing up his stuff. “We’ll leave.”

 

Spencer was the last of the three of them out, and he made sure to passive-aggressively shut the door. He crossed his arms over his chest. “So, what now?”

 

“There’s only one class period left, so we might as well go home,” Linda said. 

 

Brendon stared at her. “I thought you were a good student. You want to skip class?”

 

“Yeah,” Linda said. “I haven’t missed anything this semester, so I’m not going to have to take final exams. I can skip one class, it’s not a big deal.”

 

“Well, I guess we’re leaving school early then,” Spencer said. He turned on his heel and lead the three of them out of the school. It was weird to be walking through the halls when they were empty. Spencer was so used to the noise and chaoticness of class changes. Even in the early mornings, before the first bell rang, there were people running around everywhere and grabbing things from lockers. 

 

It felt nice outside, which was strange because it was sunny and Spencer had to squint so that he didn’t go blind. He should have grabbed sunglasses on his way out that morning, but it was too late now. He turned to his friends. “What do we do now? I still have work at three, so…”

 

“Starbucks, obviously,” Brendon said. “Where else to people go when they’re skipping class?”

 

“I have no idea, considering I’ve never done it before,” Linda said. She shifted the straps on her backpack and pulled her hair away from her face. “But it’s better than standing out here for another hour and a half. Where’s the nearest one?”

 

“It’s close. Follow me,” Brendon said. He turned around and started walking down the street without checking to make sure that Linda and Spencer were following him. It wasn’t as though either of them had a better option, though, so they did. It wasn’t a long walk, and they only got honked at while crossing the street twice. 

 

There were people sitting outside when the three of them got to the Starbucks. Spencer realised, a little too late, that with their backpacks still on, they looked like they were skipping school. Hopefully people just thought they were baby-faced college freshmen, and not a group of kids skipping class. He tried not to make eye contact with anyone as he headed towards the door. 

 

“Spencer! Brendon!” someone called out from behind them. Spencer considered just running into the store and hoping there was a back exit, but that plan was shot to death as soon as Brendon turned around to see who had called his name. Spencer sighed, and turned as well, hoping he wasn’t about to get in trouble again. 

 

Pete Wentz was drinking an iced coffee and wearing the ugliest pair of sunglasses Spencer had ever seen. They were bejeweled. Pete waved, grinning around his straw. “Hey guys, what’s up? You wanna drop your stuff here and then get coffee?”

 

“I’m offended that he doesn’t remember my name,” Linda said. She walked over and dropped her backpack into the chair beside Pete anyway. Brendon and Spencer followed suite, and then the three of them headed into the Starbucks to get their drinks. There was a line, but it moved fast, and the store had air conditioning, so Spencer couldn’t complain about it. 

 

Pete was flipping through one of Brendon’s notebooks when the three of them got back. Brendon let out a startled, “hey, that’s mine!” and snatched it back from Pete. He shoved it down into his backpack and dropped into the chair, glaring at Pete from behind his mocha frappe. “Do you just get a kick out of going through people’s shit or what?”

 

“Dude, it was just math notes,” Pete said. When Brendon didn’t stop glaring, Pete threw his hands up and said, “okay, I’ll leave your school notes alone.”

 

“So, uh, Pete…” Spencer said. He was never sure what to call Pete, because he was kind of their boss but he was also just a super cool bassist and someone that Spencer and Ryan both looked up to. Not literally, since Pete was a few inches shorter than them, but in a metaphorical, musical sense. Pete Wentz was cool. “What’ve you been up to? Other than, like, the album and stuff?”

 

“Planning for Warped, mostly,” Pete said. “And bothering Ryan about the album. You guys are still planning to release it in the fall, right? That hasn’t changed since I last crashed at your apartment?”

 

Spencer buried his face in his hands. So Pete was now coming by the apartment unannounced. Great. At least he was an entertaining person to be around. “Yeah, we’re still on track. But if you’re gonna drop in at the apartment, can you at least call us and tell us you’re coming? Some of us actually have schedules that we live on.”

 

“I know your schedules,” Pete said. Spencer peered at him through his fingers. Pete was being serious, but he looked a little confused. He twirled his straw around, crunching the ice. “Ryan’s told me when you guys are at work or at school so that I don’t show up when no one’s home and have to wait outside. I told her she could just give me a key, but she said something about not trusting me.”

 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Spencer said. Ryan had always been particular about her privacy. It came from years of not having any, and being constantly worried that her dad was going to burst in on her because there wasn’t a lock on her door and there was no way to keep him out of her stuff. “Ryan likes her privacy, and also, it’d be a little weird to come back and see Pete Wentz in my living room. This whole album making situation is weird, and it doesn’t feel real half of the time. You showing up unexpectedly would not help my grasp on reality.”

 

“That, and I don’t want you in my room,” Brendon said. He glanced around and then leaned over the table. “I’ve got, like, sex stuff in there.”

 

Linda rolled her eyes. “Brendon, you can talk about sex out loud. It’s not like anyone here is paying attention to us enough to care.”

 

“You never know,” Brendon said, offended. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, swirling the whipped cream into his drink. Spencer never understood how Brendon could enjoy coffee that was more sugar and flavouring than anything else. Obviously Spencer didn’t like black coffee, because black coffee was gross, but he still wanted his Starbucks drink to taste like it had caffeine in it. If he wanted something sweet, he could go get a milkshake.

 

“Well, I’ve got shit to do, but I’ll be coming by the apartment sometime this week. I promise to bring pizza, though, so don’t get too pissed,” Pete said, grabbing his drink and getting up. He pointed at Linda and Spencer. “You two have a shift in about twenty minutes. You should probably get going.”

 

Linda narrowed her eyes at Pete’s retreating back. “I hate that he’s right.”

 

* * *

 

**June 1, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Spencer had the day off of work, but Linda and Brendon didn’t, so he had to take the bus home on his own. The apartment was empty when he entered, with no sign of Dallon anywhere. Spencer frowned. He’d seen Dallon leave for work that morning, because they’d grabbed breakfast with Brendon and Spencer before leaving. Dallon should have been back by then, but they weren’t. 

 

Spencer checked all the bedrooms, thinking that maybe Dallon was taking a nap or working on music, but they were all empty. Dallon’s bed was made up, and their closet door was closed. Spencer dropped his backpack down on Dallon’s mattress and started poking around, looking for something that would tell him where his friend had gone off to. 

 

It wasn’t until he realised that Dallon’s backpack was missing from it’s usual spot that it hit Spencer what day it was. June 1st wasn’t important to most people, but it was to Dallon. Today was the two year anniversary of Breezy’s death. Brendon was off at work, Jon and Ryan were still in class, and Dallon had used the opportunity to go… wherever they were. 

 

Spencer pulled out his phone and called Dallon. He paced back and forth across Dallon’s room, listening to the phone ringing against his ear, hoping that Dallon would be there to pick up. 

 

_ “Spencer?” _ Dallon’s voice said over the phone. Spencer dropped onto Dallon’s bed with relief. They were okay.  _ “Why’re you calling me? Shouldn’t you be at work?” _

 

“I have the day off,” Spencer said. “Um, not to be rude or anything, but where are you? I’m at the apartment and there’s no one here. Are you off work yet?”

 

_ “I took the day off,”  _ Dallon said. There was a lot of background noise wherever they were. Spencer figured that they were outside, which would make sense. Dallon probably needed fresh air, so that they weren’t alone and suffocating in the apartment.  _ “I’m in Las Vegas, in the airport. Don’t worry about the money or anything, though. I talked to Pete, and he’s paying for it. I feel weird about having him pay for everything, but I just… I had to be here, you know? I couldn’t--” _

 

Their voice died off into a shuddering breath, and Spencer knew Dallon was trying to keep themself together while they were still in public. Spencer wished that he and Dallon were in the same room and not two time zones apart. There wasn’t much he could do, sitting in their apartment in Chicago while Dallon was alone in the city they’d all left behind. 

 

“Are you staying the night there?” Spencer asked.

 

_ “Yeah,” _ Dallon said.  _ “I’m covering my own hotel stay, though. It’s not like I can crash at my parents’ house or anything.” _

 

“You can stay with my mom and dad,” Spencer offered. He hadn’t asked his parents if they were okay with someone randomly showing up to spend the night, but they’d always let Ryan stay over without any warning, so Spencer couldn’t see why Dallon would be any different. They were Spencer’s friend too, and they had abusive parents. Just because Dallon’s parents had never hit them, didn’t mean they hadn’t been abused. “They’ll be cool with you crashing there, and then you won’t be alone for the night.”

 

_ “You don’t have to do that, Spence. I’m fine on my own.” _

 

“I know, but…” Spencer sighed. He wasn’t sure how to articulate what he wanted to say. There were certain situations where being alone was bad. When Ryan’s dad had gotten in an accident and she’d had to drive him to the hospital, she couldn’t be alone in her house for weeks. Spencer’s aunt had been married to an abusive man when Spencer was younger, and she and her son had stayed with Spencer’s parents because they were afraid of being in an unfamiliar place like a motel. Grief and fear were strange. They made easy things hard. 

 

_ “I’ll call them, okay?” _ Dallon said, almost as if they could read Spencer’s thoughts over the phone.  _ “And I’ll call you when I figure out where I’m spending the night. That okay with you?” _

 

“Yeah,” Spencer said. “You can call me whenever you need anything. I’m here for you.”

 

_ “Thanks,” _ Dallon said. Spencer could hear their smile through the phone.  _ “That means a lot to me.” _

 

* * *

 

**June 1, 2004; Las Vegas, Nevada.**

 

Brendon’s apartment was tiny, with a shitty air conditioning system that didn’t work half the time. As soon as he got home from his shift at the smoothie hut, he ripped his uniform off and dropped face down onto his mattress. He didn’t even have a proper bed frame. Just a mattress on the floor and a bunch of blankets tangled up on top of it. 

 

At least he still had Dallon. He’d never really stopped loving Dallon, even though Dallon had made it very clear that he didn’t--wouldn’t--love Brendon. Brendon was fine with that. He’d either wait for Dallon or he’d find someone else. So far, all of the people he’d been with left him when they realised he was just a poor high-school runaway, but Brendon didn’t give up hope. He couldn’t. He didn’t know what he would be without hope, because that was what kept him running most days. 

 

He was going to fall in love with someone, and it was going to work out. He was going to get out of Las Vegas and see the world with the person he loved. It was going to be amazing. Brendon would never have to choose between paying the bills and having food ever again. 

 

There was rapid knocking on the door to Brendon’s one room apartment. Brendon groaned into his mattress. Whoever it was, Brendon didn’t want to see them. He just wanted to stop sweating and get to sleep. He hadn’t done his homework, but he didn’t care. He could just bullshit it the next morning on his way to school. It would be fine. 

 

“Brendon, come on, I know you’re in there,” Dallon’s voice said from the other side. His voice sounded raw, like he’d either been screaming or crying. Maybe he’d been doing both. Dallon had changed, after Breezy killed herself. He was more serious, less likely to smile. He threw himself into the job he’d gotten even though it was a graveyard shift and he always looked exhausted. He wasn’t happy anymore, and Brendon didn’t think he’d be happy until he got to leave Las Vegas behind forever. 

 

Brendon extracted himself from his mattress and got the door. He didn’t bother putting any clothes on. It was hot. Dallon wouldn’t care. 

 

Dallon’s eyes were red and wet, and there were still tracks of tears on his face, but he was doing his best to look like he hadn’t been crying. There were two glass bottles of Dr. Pepper in his hand, his long fingers holding them in place. He was wearing a black t shirt and a pair of jeans so dark they might as well have been black too. He rubbed his face with the back of his hand. “Can I come in, or are you busy with someone else?”

 

There was no jealousy in his voice. Brendon wished there was. He wanted Dallon to miss their relationship, because Brendon missed it. 

 

Brendon shook his head and opened the door fully. “No, I’m alone. The air condition just isn’t working. Again.”

 

“Well, good thing the drinks are cold,” Dallon said. He was trying too hard to be positive and light. Something was really bothering him. 

 

Brendon took a deep breath, closed the door, and joined Dallon on the broken couch that was pressed up against the one wall with a window in Brendon’s apartment. He took the bottle when Dallon offered it, and used the windowsill to pop the top off of it. Brendon took a long drink from the Dr. Pepper, relishing how it felt when the cold liquid hit his throat. He curled his legs up under himself. “So, what’s bothering you.”

 

“I went to go see her,” Dallon said. 

 

“Breezy?”

 

“Yeah.” Dallon was staring at his own bottle, pressing the pad of his thumb against the sharp edge of the top and rubbing back and forth. “It’s been a whole year. It feels like it’s been longer. I don’t feel any better now than I did then. I feel like I’m doing something wrong, like I should be okay by now.”

 

“You don’t have to be okay. She was your friend, and what happened to her was fucked up,” Brendon said. Breezy’s death had hit him hard, too, but he hadn’t had the same friendship with her that Dallon had. He missed her, and he wished she was still alive, but he was moving on. He’d gotten his life back together, partially because he’d had to, but Dallon and Brendon weren’t the same people. Dallon didn’t have to be okay just because Brendon was. 

 

Dallon nodded, and drank from his Dr. Pepper. He didn’t say anything else, but Brendon got the feeling that there was more to Dallon’s visit. Brendon wasn’t sure if Dallon was going to invite him out to visit Breezy’s grave, or if he was planning to spend the night on Brendon’s couch, or what. Brendon shifted in his seat. He wasn’t feeling very patient. “That’s not all you’re here for, is it?”

 

“It’s not,” Dallon said. He turned, finally, to look at Brendon. “Remember when I said I was going to post an ad online to see if anyone needed a ride out of here?”

 

“Yeah,” Brendon said. It was hard to forget, because Brendon asked Dallon frequently if he’d gotten any responses. Brendon wanted to get out. It didn’t matter much to him where they ended up. 

 

“I got a response,” Dallon said. He looked hopeful. “Her name’s Ryan, she’s a senior in high school, and apparently she’s leaving Vegas to go to college with her boyfriend in Chicago. So, before I give a definitive yes and go meet her to make sure we’re not being scammed or anything, what’s your opinion on Chicago?”

 

“It can’t be worse than here,” Brendon shrugged. He’d never imagined himself somewhere cold. He was so used to the heat of Las Vegas, and feeling like the sun would never go down and the sand from the desert would never get out of his shoes. A change would be nice, though. Brendon nodded. “Let’s do it. Let’s go to Chicago.”

 

* * *

 

**June 2, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Spencer was skipping school. Ryan had no idea he was doing this, because she wouldn’t let him if she knew. Ryan had this weird thing about going to school even if nothing was happening. Brendon had promised to cover for Spencer, though, so Spencer wasn’t worried. 

 

He knew when Dallon’s flight was supposed to land, and he knew that Dallon had to drive back from the airport, and that that would take them some time. Spencer knew there was no need to worry, but he did. He kept checking his phone, expecting a text from Dallon to let him know that they’d landed. Dallon had taken Spencer’s advice and stayed with his parents, who were fine with Dallon staying. Spencer’s mom did call him and request that he ask permission next time before inviting someone over that Spencer’s parents didn’t know.

 

Finally, though, the door to the apartment opened and Spencer rushed to Dallon without thinking about what he was doing. He let Dallon take off their backpack first, and then Spencer wrapped his arms around Dallon, rubbing their back and holding on. Dallon hugged back, dropping their head down onto Spencer’s shoulder even though Spencer was a good five inches shorter than them. Spencer squeezed them extra hard. “How’re you feeling?”

 

“A little bit like death, actually,” Dallon said. They sounded exhausted. They didn’t let go of Spencer, though. They were probably a little touch starved, and considering where they’d just been, Spencer could understand. “I forgot how emotionally draining it is to actually be there.”

 

“You wanna sit down?” Spencer asked. Dallon nodded against his shoulder, and so Spencer let go of them and followed Dallon into their bedroom. There was nothing sexual about the situation, so Spencer pushed all of those thoughts to the back of his mind and reminded himself that he was here to comfort Dallon. Nothing else. 

 

Dallon pulled the blankets around themself and Spencer, curling up against the wall. Spencer scooted up closer to Dallon, letting Dallon slide down and rest their head on his shoulder. Spencer ran his hand through Dallon’s hair. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

 

“I don’t know,” Dallon said. They looked up at Spencer through their bangs. “Can you and Ryan do me a favour, though?”

 

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you need.”

 

“Don’t die under the wrong name,” Dallon said. Their jaw twitched, and when they squeezed their eyes shut, a single tear spilled out and fell down their cheek. Spencer reached out with his other arm and wrapped Dallon in a hug, even as Dallon started shaking. It was a little weird, seeing someone older than him cry, but Spencer had never seen Dallon as an adult. Not in the way he thought of his parents or teachers as adults. Dallon was just one of Spencer’s friends, who happened to be twenty-three years old instead of eighteen or nineteen. 

 

“I won’t,” Spencer said into Dallon’s hair. “I won’t, okay? If I die, I’m dying as a guy. But that’s not going to happen for a while, and Ryan’s not going anywhere either. You’re not losing any of us, I promise.”

 

“God, I’m pathetic,” Dallon said, laughing wetly against Spencer’s shoulder. Spencer rubbed their back, pressing his face against their hair. Dallon wasn’t pathetic. They held onto Spencer’s shirt, holding the fabric and twisting it around in their hands. Their whole body shook, and Spencer held them tighter. His heart ached for Dallon, and how they felt they had to go through all of this alone. 

 

“You’re not pathetic,” Spencer said, pressing his face against Dallon’s hair. 

 

“I feel pretty pathetic,” Dallon said. “I’m a mess, I’ve probably gotten tears and snot all over your shirt, and I’m making you listen to me mope about shit that happened two years ago.”

 

Spencer rolled his eyes. He took Dallon’s head in his hands and lifted their face up so that they could see him properly. Spencer looked into Dallon’s eyes, noting how they glittered a silvery blue colour in the light coming through the blinds. “Dallon, you’re not making me do anything. I’m here because I care about you, and you’re my friend. You don’t have to go through anything alone, okay? You’ve got me. And Ryan and Jon and Brendon, probably.”

 

“You’re something else,” Dallon said. There was a shy smile on their face, and they dropped their gaze when they spoke. Spencer was still holding their face in his hands, and he swiped his thumb across Dallon’s cheek, wiping away a tear as the ridges of his thumb caught against Dallon’s stubble. Dallon reached up and put their hand over Spencer’s, gently wrapping their fingers around his wrist. They closed their eyes for a moment, their dampened eyelashes flaring out across their cheeks. Dallon had really pretty eyelashes. “You’ve got school. You should probably go before you miss any more class and Ryan gets pissed.”

 

“Are you gonna be okay here?” Spencer asked. “I don’t want you here alone if you’re still upset.”

 

“I’ll be okay,” Dallon said. They opened their eyes again, and looked right at Spencer, taking his breath away. “Thanks, by the way, for being here. It means a lot.”

 

Spencer shrugged, trying to act like he wasn’t feeling a million things at once for the person sitting in front of him. “What’re friends for?”

 

* * *

 

**June 24, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Whoever decided to make Kenwood’s graduation the first session of the day was an asshole. It was seven thirty in the morning, Spencer didn’t have coffee because drinks weren’t allowed backstage, and he and Linda weren’t sitting anywhere near each other. Brendon was kind of close, but there were two Smiths and then about seven Thomas's between the two of them. 

 

Spencer looked up from where he’d been staring angrily at a spot on the floor to see Linda walking towards him. She was holding a pair of white heels in her hand, and she was barefoot. She looked just as tired as Spencer felt, and dropped down into the empty seat beside him without asking whose it was. Linda tossed her heels to the floor. “I hate these shoes. I’m five foot ten, I don’t need to be any taller.”

 

“Dallon’s like six foot four and they’d totally wear heels if they could find any,” Spencer said. “And Ryan’s the same height as you but that’s never stopped her before.”

 

Linda arched an eyebrow at him. “They hurt, Spencer. I’m gonna get blisters on my feet.”

 

“Never mind then,” Spencer said. He tucked his legs under the chair, hooking his feet around the front legs of it. It was weird, being here at graduation. This entire year had been weird, because Spencer hadn’t expected any of it to happen. Yet, there he was, sitting in a chair in an auditorium in Chicago, about to graduate high school. His parents were out in the audience, along with his sisters, Ryan, Jon, and Dallon. Brendon was a few seats down, and Linda was sitting beside him. 

 

Spencer was in a band. He was in a band, and he was finally done with school, possibly forever if the band actually worked, and he would have never pictured his life like this. He’d always expected to stick around in Las Vegas for a few years before he and Ryan fucked off to wherever the best music scene was to live on mattresses and in the back of people’s vans. 

 

“Has it hit you yet?” Linda asked. “That this is the end, and after this we’re supposed to just go off into the world and figure out how to be adults?”

 

“It’s hitting me right now,” Spencer said. “Has it hit you?”

 

“Kind of. I probably won’t realise I’m done with public school shit until it’s like, July, and I’m checking into the honours program at Chicago,” Linda said. She’d managed to get enough loans and scholarships to go to the University of Chicago, and Spencer was proud of her. She’d been talking to Jon and Ryan about college a lot, which made Spencer only slightly jealous. 

 

He was in a band with his best friend, though, so he didn’t mind that Ryan got to share her college advice with Linda instead of him. It was a fair trade. 

 

Linda took a deep breath. “You’re not gonna get super famous and then forget about me, right? You’ll still come back to Chicago at some point?”

 

“Dude, of course I’ll come back! I like Chicago,” Spencer said. He turned in his seat so that he was facing Linda. “And, I don’t know if we’re gonna get famous. We might suck, or people might hate us and then Brendon and I will have to figure our lives out again. But whatever happens, I’m definitely coming back to Chicago. Pete Wentz is here.”

 

“Fuck Pete Wentz,” Linda said, joking. “He can’t even remember my name, and he comes over to my parents house and gives them weird paintings.”

 

“Okay, so fuck Pete Wentz and his weird paintings,” Spencer said. “I’ll come back and crash in your dorm room instead.”

 

“I’ll make sure I’m an RA by then so everyone who sees you thinks you’re my mysterious boyfriend,” Linda said, wiggling her eyebrows. Spencer was really glad he’d met her. Of all the people he could have survived his last year of high school with, Linda Ignarro was a pretty good choice. 

 

A teacher came walking up the hallway, telling everyone to get back to their seats because the ceremony was about to start. Linda sighed dramatically and snatched her shoes off the ground. She waved to Spencer before walking back towards her seat, and Spencer waved back. He slumped down in his chair. At least he was wearing a suit. It was uncomfortable and stiff, but at least he didn’t have to worry about flashing anyone or deal with heels. 

 

Soon everyone was standing up, adjusting their caps and gowns, and marching into the auditorium. Spencer looked around at the crowd, searching for his parents. He found them, and everyone else, sitting about ten rows back. Linda’s parents were sitting below them, and they waved at Spencer. Linda’s mom snapped a picture of him, which was a little weird, but she also turned and snapped a picture of Brendon, too. 

 

The ceremony was long and boring. Linda got a bunch of awards, people cheered when they weren’t supposed to, and the valedictorian’s speech was really dry. Spencer didn’t pay much attention to it, and instead tried to see how many names he actually recognised in his graduating class. There weren’t a lot, but he did get to see what Linda’s and Brendon’s middle names were, so that was pretty cool. 

 

When the ceremony ended, Spencer joined up with Linda and Brendon. Linda had her cap and gown folded over her arms, but Brendon was still wearing his stuff. Brendon beamed when he saw Spencer, and wrapped him in a hug. “We’re free!”

 

“Hell yeah we are,” Spencer said, hugging Brendon back. The two boys parted and Spencer removed his cap, shaking his hair out. He needed to get it cut again. 

 

“I still have four more years, so both of you suck,” Linda said, pointing at them with her cap. She was still wearing her heels, but when Spencer looked over his shoulder, he saw that her parents and his parents were only a few feet away. 

 

Spencer’s mom noticed him staring, and motioned for him to come over. Spencer rolled his eyes, not wanting to deal with parents when he’d literally just graduated high school, but his mom saw that too and she gave him her death glare. Spencer nodded, and said to his friends, “we should probably join everyone else. Otherwise my mom’s gonna come over here and drag me over.”

 

“I’ve never met your mom,” Brendon said. “Is she cool with, like, stuff?”

 

“Gay stuff?” Spencer asked. “Yeah, she’s cool with it.”

 

“My parents aren’t, so don’t say anything,” Linda reminded them. She smiled up at her parents when the three of them had joined the others. Spencer introduced her and Brendon to his parents, and Spencer’s dad immediately started asking them questions about what they were doing with their lives. He’d done the same thing with Ryan when she graduated last year, but Ryan was better at avoiding questions than Linda and Brendon. They hadn’t grown up around Spencer’s parents. 

 

“Dad, stop interrogating my friends,” Spencer said. 

 

“I’m just curious about them, Spence,” he said. “I haven’t seen you in a year; you’re like a whole new person now.”

 

Spencer shrugged. “Not really.”

 

“You look more mature,” his dad said. “And it’s relieving to see you hanging out with people who aren’t Ryan. Your mom and I were worried, when you first called us, that you were just doing this so you didn’t have to live without Ryan, but I guess we were wrong. You fit in with these guys, and they’ve all said great things about you.”

 

Spencer buried his face in his hands. “Dad. That’s weird. My friends aren’t supposed to be Amazon reviews.”

 

“I never said they were. You drew that conclusion yourself,” he said. He looked proud of himself for making Spencer embarrassed. “Now, since we’ve all been up since dawn, what do you guys say about going out for a celebration meal?”

 

Naturally, everyone was on board, and the parents hashed out details while Spencer and his friends huddled away from them. Dallon had wrapped their arm around Brendon’s shoulders, looking down at him with a huge grin on their face. Spencer realised then that the two of them didn’t have anyone else besides the people here. Brendon’s parents weren’t at their own son’s graduation, and Dallon’s parents had given up on them. 

 

“You guys are all coming, right?” Spencer asked, directing his question mostly at Dallon and Brendon. 

 

“Yeah, of course,” Dallon said. Their smile was warm, and they looked like they’d finally figured out where they belonged. “I put up with you two for a year, I should at least get breakfast out of it.”

 

* * *

 

**June 26, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Pete knocked on the door to the apartment less than ten minutes after Spencer’s parents and his sisters said their final goodbyes and headed out the door. Spencer was impressed, but he’d also wanted to go back to sleep, which he couldn’t do if Pete Wentz was laying on his couch. Instead, he woke Ryan and Jon up, and told them that Pete was in the apartment. Again. 

 

“Seriously?” Ryan said. She’d managed to burrito herself in under the covers, even though the room was warm. “It’s ten in the morning. I’m tired.”

 

“Did he tell you why he’s here, or is he just stealing our coffee again?” Jon asked. He’d actually gotten up, but he was still on the bed. Ryan scooted closer to him, and Jon pulled her up onto his lap, tucking the blanket around her shoulders. Jon ran his hand through her hair and frowned. “Do we even have coffee? Dallon was supposed to get groceries but I’m not sure if they’ve gotten around to it yet.”

 

“Let’s make Pete buy our groceries,” Ryan said into Jon’s leg. 

 

“You have to get up and tell him yourself,” Spencer said. “I’m gonna go make sure he hasn’t broken anything yet.”

 

Jon gave Spencer a thumbs-up, and the last thing Spencer saw before closing the door was Jon standing up and Ryan pouting up at him. Spencer shook his head. Those two were too good for the world. Spencer was glad that they’d found each other and that they were working as a couple. 

 

Pete was in the kitchen, scrambling eggs. Spencer had not been aware that there were eggs in the apartment. It was hard to keep track of what was in the fridge when there were four other people taking shit out of it. Everyone’s schedule was different, and there were a lot of midnight treks to the kitchen to get food. 

 

“You can make eggs?” was what came out of Spencer’s mouth, because of course. Unlike Ryan, Spencer tried to be nice to Pete, because he was Pete Wentz and he was currently holding all of their futures in his hands. Spencer didn’t want to accidentally piss him off by being a complete asshole. Spencer leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “Not that I’m, like, surprised or anything. I mean, you’re an adult. Eggs aren’t even that hard to make.”

 

“Dude, you don’t have to suck up to me,” Pete said, and flipped the eggs. “I’ve already signed you guys, I’m just waiting for the fucking record.”

 

“We’ve been working on it,” Spencer said. He didn’t want Pete to think that the band had been slacking off, because they hadn’t. Making music was just hard. Ryan was frustrated, Spencer’s fingers were covered with blisters, and Brendon was going through a bag of cough drops a week. He didn’t think there was much else they could do to speed up the process, unless Pete was going to pay for their rent and food so that they could all quit their jobs and only focus on the album. 

 

Ryan and Spencer hadn’t even come up wit a name for it yet. It was just  _ the album _ . 

 

“I know,” Pete said. “Can you grab me a plate?”

 

Spencer reached up and grabbed the first plate he saw. “Why’re you here? Usually when you bring us food it’s just pizza, and it’s not in the morning.”

 

“I got you guys a space at the studio,” Pete said as he moved the scrambled eggs onto the plate. Spencer stared at him, his hand still half raised from where he’d set the plate down. Pete grinned. “You guys can start recording for real now! You won’t have to keep using the Ignarro’s garage, which is great, because Kate loves you guys but she also want her garage back. Kate’s Linda’s mom, by the way.”

 

“That’s a lot to take in at once,” Spencer said. “When do we get to use the studio?”

 

“Today,” Pete said. “After breakfast we’re packing your stuff up and moving it there. Dallon already knows, and he’s getting off of work early to come join us. Do you guys like anything weird on your eggs or are you fine with just salt and pepper?”

 

“I have no idea,” Spencer said. He hadn’t had scrambled eggs for breakfast in a while, because he either woke up too early for an actual breakfast, or he was sleeping in until ten thirty in the morning and was just skipping breakfast because it saved money and time and he could get in the shower first. Getting hot water was nice. 

 

Everyone except Dallon ended up at the kitchen table, eating scrambled eggs and toast with Pete Wentz. It was a little surreal, and Ryan kept kicking Spencer’s foot under the table and grinning at him. She couldn’t believe this was happening either, which made Spencer feel better because he wasn’t sure he had a grip on reality any more. Everything that had happened in the past year seemed like it was straight out of a novel or some shit. It didn’t feel real. 

 

They all crowded into the taxi with Pete anyway, and headed to the studio that Pete had booked for their band. Dallon was leaned against the Brobecks van, waiting for the rest of their band to show up. They pushed their sunglasses up their nose and took a final swig from the bottle of Dr. Pepper they were holding, and crossed the parking lot to where the taxi was stalling. 

 

“This is exciting,” Dallon said as they opened the door for everyone to get out. Pete was in the front seat, and he seemed the most excited about everything. He didn’t wait for the band, just got out of the taxi and headed towards the door, almost tripping over his feet as he attempted to walk backwards. 

 

At least Spencer’s idols were just as awkward as he was in real life. That was comforting. 

 

He bumped elbows with Ryan as the two of them entered the building. “You ready to record an actual, professional album under the watchful eye of Pete Wentz?”

 

“I’ve been ready since I was born,” Ryan said, grinning. Spencer believed her. He was ready, too. He wanted to see where this would all go. 

 

* * *

 

**July 4, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

“Jon. I swear to fuck, there are bells there,” Ryan said. She was also laying on the floor when she said it, her forehead pressed against the neck of her guitar. She hit herself in the forehead with the guitar, and Spencer winced for her. It was two in the morning. Dallon had a shift in five hours, and was downing cups of coffee while in between takes. Ryan had given in and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. This was serious business now. “If you don’t play the bells, I am actually going to hit you in the face with this guitar.”

 

“There aren’t bells there, though,” Jon said. Spencer was too tired and sore to know who was right. “They cut off before the chorus.”

 

“I wrote the fucking song, I know how it goes,” Ryan argued. Brendon was nodding in agreement with her, even though he hadn’t written the song. He’d bounced ideas off of Ryan--they all had--but Ryan was the one behind the music. If she said there were bells, then there were most likely bells. She sighed and got up off the floor. “Let’s try the song again. I’m fucking tired.”

 

“I have coffee, if you want it,” Dallon offered. Ryan shook her head. It was late, and they were going to have a hard time getting home once they were finished because everyone else was out celebrating and shooting off fireworks. 

 

They started over again, and made it through after only two more tries. By then, Brendon was chugging water like his life depended on it and Dallon kept rubbing their fingers from where they were getting callused from constant playing. They packed up everything and shoved it in the back corner before heading out. The hallway was dark and Ryan had to shine her phone on the floor so that no one tripped or ran into anything. 

 

Dallon handed the keys to the Brobecks van to Spencer and climbed into the passenger seat. “You drive. I’m gonna pass out.”

 

“We really need a better schedule,” Ryan sighed from the backseat. She was leaned against Jon, and looked just as tired as Dallon was. Spencer felt bad for them both. They were pulling most of the weight of the band, and Dallon couldn’t get their shift switched to a later time so they were stuck working in the mornings when everyone else in the band was working in the evening. 

 

“What we need is to kill Pete Wentz for deciding we could create an entire album in two months,” Jon said. He looked down at the floor of the van. “Ah, shit.”

 

“What?” Brendon asked, leaning over and looking worried. Spencer had no idea what they were all looking at, but he hoped it wasn’t anything important. Spencer wanted to get back to the apartment and sleep.

 

“I forgot my shoes in the studio,” Jon said. “It’s fine. I don’t wear shoes anyway, an I can come get them tomorrow.”

 

“You’re ridiculous,” Ryan sighed. “I love you.”

 

“I know,” Jon said. Spencer made eye contact with Ryan through the rearview mirror, making a face at her so that she knew he thought that they were being adorably disgusting back there. Ryan just stuck the tip of her tongue out at him and flipped him off. Spencer grinned. He loved his band, even when it was one in the morning and they were all irritated and exhausted.

 

* * *

 

**July 21, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Spencer and Linda were the only two in the store. They’d been like that for the past hour, and it was almost time to close, so the two of them had pulled out a deck of cards from the break room and were playing Go Fish on the checkout counter. Linda had recently been promoted to being a manager, something Spencer had never tried for because he knew he’d be leaving to do band stuff in a few months, and tonight was one of the first nights that she was left alone in charge of the store. 

 

“What if someone comes in to try and rob us?” Spencer asked. “Also, do you have any sixes?”

 

“I don’t, go fish,” Linda said. “And if someone does come in here, we just hand over the money and try not to get shot. There’re security cameras, and no one’s going to get mad at us for doing what the robber guy tells us to do. We’re, like, the youngest employees here. We’re not supposed to be dead inside yet.”

 

“That’s encouraging,” Spencer said. “Got any fours?”

 

“Nope. Go fish, Smith,” Linda said, grinning. Spencer rolled his eyes and grabbed a card from the pile in between them. It wasn’t a four. Spencer was starting to think that none of these cards matched. 

 

The bell over the door dinged and Linda and Spencer scrambled to get the cards off the counter. Spencer spun around, hoping to come off as casual and not someone who had almost gotten caught slacking off while at work. It was Ryan, not an actual customer. Her arms were full of magazines and flyaway papers, and she was holding another magazine in her mouth. She ran over to the counter and dropped everything down between Spencer and Linda. 

 

“Um.” Linda said eloquently. 

 

“Pete won’t shut up about a fucking cover, so I bullshitted something about needing to go print it off to buy some time and then grabbed a bunch of shit from the damaged box at work to try and make something that’ll work,” Ryan said, digging through the magazines. She pulled out a red square of cardboard and carefully put it on top of the register computer. “That’s the base. Look through the magazines, find people who look fancy and shit, cut them out, and we’ll make a cover.”

 

“When does Pete want this?” Spencer asked. He headed over to the door and turned the sign around so that the  _ Closed! _ sign was facing towards the street. It was only thirty minutes before the store was meant to close anyway. 

 

“First thing tomorrow morning,” Ryan said. “Which could either be noon or four in the morning. Pete doesn’t have a sleep schedule, and I hate it.”

 

“We’ll help, don’t worry,” Linda said. She pulled out two pairs of scissors from under the counter, as well as a gold Sharpie pen. The three of them started flipping through magazines, ripping out pages and cutting out people and trying to put something together. It took quite a few hours, but by the end of it, they had an album cover and it didn’t look half bad. 

 

Ryan flipped it over in her hand. She looked up at Spencer, grinning. “This is really happening. Spence, we’re gonna have an album.”

 

“I know,” Spencer said. “We’re so close.”

 

“How many songs do you guys have left before the album’s done?” Linda asked, handing some of the magazines over to Spencer so that he could toss them. 

 

“Three?” Spencer said, glancing over his shoulder at Ryan to confirm it. She nodded. Three songs, then they could turn the album over to the post-production people and send it out for people--real people--to buy. He dropped the ruined magazines in the bin by the door, and flipped off the lights. “Well, now I guess we go home. And wait for Pete Wentz to show up at the apartment demanding the album art.”

 

“Spence, Pete’s on Warped right now,” Ryan said. She turned the album art around in her hands, like she still couldn’t believe it would one day be an actual CD case with real music inside of it. “I think he’s in, like, Ohio or something. He’s not going to be at our apartment.”

 

“But he was here after graduation?” Spencer asked, frowning. There was a copy of the Warped Tour dates hanging on the fridge. July 23rd, the day Warped was in Chicago, was circled and highlighted, and someone had drawn a tiny, crying person with emo fringe next to it. “Did he just skip a show or something for that?”

 

“He took a plane,” Ryan said. “You know the guy doesn’t sleep, like, ever. I doubt it fucked with his playing skills.”

 

“Pete Wentz is a character,” Linda said. Spencer couldn’t tell if she was impressed by his antics or if she was amused. “So, not to derail or anything, but is there a chance I could join you guys at the show on Saturday? Or are tickets already sold out?”

 

“We can sneak you in if you can’t get a ticket,” Spencer said. He’d never snuck into a show, but he knew that Jon had, and he was pretty sure Ryan had done it at least once when she followed Fall Out Boy on tour for a few weeks that one summer. Spencer turned to Ryan. “Right?”

 

“Sounds like a plan,” Ryan said. “And if that doesn’t work, I’ll text Pete and he’ll figure something out. I’ve basically made him my bitch at this point.”

 

“You went from idolising the guy to owning his ass really quick,” Linda said, grinning. She was impressed.

 

Ryan shrugged. “That’s the thing about guys. Once you see their dick, they become a lot less interesting.”

 

“Can’t relate,” Linda said. “I’m a lesbian. I have never given a shit about a man in my life.”

 

“Wow, okay,” Spencer said, making a face at her. Linda just shrugged back at him. Spencer took off his employee lanyard thing and asked her, “do you want a ride home, or is someone coming to pick you up?”

 

“I’m good on my own,” Linda said. She pulled a can of hornet spray out of her bag. “I’ve got this, pepper spray, and a taser. I’m set. Just don’t tell my parents I’m going home alone, or they’ll flip. They still think I’m this helpless little girl.”

 

Ryan frowned. “Be careful, anyway.”

 

“I will,” Linda said. “I always am.”

 

Ryan and Spencer walked with her to the bus stop anyway, because it was dark out and Chicago was known for crime. Linda was still a teenage girl, even armed with a multitude of self defense weapons. Once Linda was safely on the train, Spencer and Ryan headed back out to the bus stop that would take them back to the apartment. 

 

The bus was crowded, with people standing practically on top of each other. Ryan and Spencer were facing each other and holding onto the same pole. Ryan’s jaw was clenched tightly, and she was staring aggressively out the window, her eyes flicking back and forth as the scenery flashed by. Spencer lowered his hand so it was curled around hers on the pole, and ran his thumb over hers. It was a silent reminder that she wasn’t alone, and that Spencer had her back if anything got nasty. 

  
Ryan smiled a little, and extended her first two fingers to press against the palm of Spencer’s hand. It was going to be alright. They were in it together, no matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed, I really appreciate them!!
> 
> Also, be sure to mark your calenders. 7/25/17; wsyict.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am entirely unable to guess how much of a fic is left to write. This chapter was supposed to be the last, but I was at 14k words and Still Going, so I decided to split it up. It's probably a better idea, considering that this way, the fic will end up at seventeen chapters (ayee) instead of sixteen, and then I can pretend it was on purpose and all poetic and shit. 
> 
> But yeah, the Actual Last Chapter (I promise) is almost done. So, there's gonna be an update in about a week. It'll be wild. I'll probably cry a little. This fic means a lot to me, and I'm super proud of it. 
> 
> I'm not gonna get all emotional now, because I try to save that for the final chapter, so I'll shut up now. 
> 
> Also: petekey is real and Ryan Ross knows it.

**July 23, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

It was hot. They’d gotten Linda into Warped without any problems, but the water was expensive and no one had thought to sneak any of that in. Spencer was squinting behind his sunglasses and purposely standing behind Dallon so that he’d be out of the sun. The two of them were in search for drinks, and the other four were staking out the stage that Fall Out Boy would be playing on, so that they could get a good spot. 

 

“You look like you’re about to pass out,” Dallon said. They reached out and pressed their fingertips to Spencer’s forehead. Spencer ducked away because Dallon’s hand was sweaty and warm against his skin. Dallon frowned. “You’re not going to pass out, right?”

 

“I’ll try not to,” Spencer said. Really, it wasn’t even that bad. Las Vegas had been worse, but Las Vegas wasn’t so fucking humid on top of being hot. And Spencer hadn’t been running around Las Vegas while wearing a binder and trying to out-yell and out-jump the people around him at a concert. He pushed his bangs away from his face. “Let’s just get some water and get back to the stage. I think I’m just dehydrated.”

 

Dallon nodded. “If you need to lay down or anything I’ll make sure no one steps on you.”

 

“Wow, thanks,” Spencer said, but he appreciated the gesture. He pushed his sunglasses up his nose with the back of his hand and nudged Dallon forward, towards the drink stand. Dallon, for whatever reason, was doing fine in the heat. Of course, they were in a tank top and shorts, and they weren't wearing a binder under their clothes. 

 

Spencer and Dallon finally got up to the drink counter, and bought six water bottles. They were overpriced, but they didn't have any other options and Fall Out Boy was going to get on stage in about ten minutes. Spencer opened one of the bottles and drank a quarter of it before he and Dallon trekked back across the field to where their friends were holding two spaces for them. 

 

There was a lot of shoving and pushing, and apologising to people for bumping into them. Ryan wasn't at the barrier, but she was about four people back and there was a clear view of the stage from the spot she'd picked out. She started waving when she noticed Spencer and Dallon, and Spencer waved back with a bottle in his hand. He slid between two people and handed a bottle to Ryan, giving the other to Jon because he was standing on her other side. 

 

“You're the best,” Jon said, opening his and pouring some over his head. It was hot out. Someone behind Spencer screamed, startling him, and he and Jon both looked back to make sure that no one had passed out. The group of girls were fine, they were just screaming and jumping and pointing at the stage. 

 

Pete had walked on, with his bass over one shoulder, and he was talking with Joe, the guitarist, and Mikey Way, the bassist from My Chemical Romance. Ryan pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of the three of them, for some reason. It wasn't like she saw Pete and Joe all the time, and Mikey Way wasn't that cool. He was tall and had long legs and looked nice while playing bass on stage, but so did Dallon. 

 

“Am I missing something?” Jon asked, leaning around Ryan to ask Spencer. Spencer shrugged. Jon put his hand on Ryan's lower back. “Are you blackmailing Pete or something? What's with all the pictures?”

 

“Trying to prove something to the internet,” Ryan said, and snapped another picture. Pete was turned around, putting his bass on Mikey Way, and Mikey was laughing and trying to back away. Ryan stood up on her toes. “Why is the camera on my phone so shitty? Fuck this.”

 

“Ry, seriously, what's so interesting about Mikey Way being on stage while Fall Out Boy’s setting up?” Spencer asked. “Aren't their bands friends?”

 

“Yes, but I have to prove something to a group of people who follow me,” Ryan said. “I'll explain later, when we're not out in public.”

 

“You're blackmailing Pete,” Jon said. “That's the only explanation.”

 

“I'm not,” Ryan said. Spencer believed her, somewhat. He wouldn't put it past Ryan to be blackmailing Pete somehow, but she didn't seem bitter about anything. She just seemed excited that Mikey Way was on the Fall Out Boy stage. Maybe Ryan just had a thing for Mikey that Spencer had never picked up on. 

 

Patrick and Andy came out, and the four of them warmed up before Pete took the microphone from Patrick and addressed the crowd. He didn't even get to open his mouth before people started screaming at the top of their lungs. Spencer and Ryan were two of them; Jon was yelling “take your shirt off, Wentz,” which only made the screaming louder. 

 

“What's up, Chicago? I've missed you guys,” Pete said. “It's hot as fuck! Who's ready to sweat their skin off and have a good fucking time?!”

 

More screaming. Brendon was jumping up and down and Dallon looked like they were trying not to laugh at Brendon's excitement. Linda was screaming too, and it sounded like she and Jon were trying to start a chant. It didn't get anywhere, because Pete gave the mic back to Patrick, Andy counted them off, and the show began. 

 

It was hot, and there were bodies everywhere, but it didn't matter because Spencer was screaming Fall Out Boy lyrics back to the band while surrounded by his friends and band mates. At one point, Pete jumped into the crowd and Spencer and Linda both had to frantically drop their half finished water bottles to reach up and grab him so he didn't come down on their heads. 

 

Pete's back was sweaty, and he smelled like tires and grass. He almost kicked Spencer in the face, but Spencer didn't care because he had Pete's sweat on his hands and he was four people back from the barrier. This was awesome. There was literally nothing in the world that could ever beat this feeling, and Spencer knew it. 

 

An hour and a half later, at the end of the set, Spencer's throat was raw, his water bottle was lost to people's feet and the grass, and his hair was stuck to his forehead. He jumped up on Dallon's back and held on anyway. “That was amazing!”

 

“I'm gonna fuck Patrick's voice,” Brendon said. His voice was just as shot as Spencer's, which would be a problem when they went back to the studio tomorrow. Brendon pulled a cough drop out of his pocket and popped it into his mouth. “Also I'm gonna fuck Pete. I had no idea how sexy that dude was until I saw him on stage.”

 

Ryan rolled her eyes. “Don't waste your time. His dick’s only average, and he's not very vocal. You're better off just imagining it in your head.”

 

“Ryan,” Spencer said, resting his head down on Dallon's shoulder, “you ruin everything.”

 

“No I don't!” Ryan exclaimed. “I'm just saying that Brendon could get better dick than Pete Wentz.”

 

“Joe’s the biggest, I think,” Jon said. When the others gave him weird looks, he added, “what? The guys talk about weird stuff when they're not on stage or trying to impress people. Pete's got a piss kink, apparently, but don't put it online. I don't want to get in trouble.”

 

“Would he care though?” Dallon asked. “Pete seems like the kind of guy who laughs off weird rumours.”

 

Jon shrugged. “He'd probably be fine with it, but Patrick's got this thing about Pete and over-sharing. He's threatened to make me sign a vow of silence over a few things in the past.”

 

“That's hardcore,” Ryan said, looking impressed. She finished her water bottle and looked around. “Unrelated, but is there anywhere where we can get refills? I'm fucking thirsty.”

 

“Probably not. Everything here is expensive and I'm annoyed,” Linda said. She crossed her arms and glared at the band that was moving onto the stage that Fall Out Boy had just vacated. “I thought punk was supposed to be about sticking it to the man and not conforming and all that shit. Making drinks overpriced is the most conformist, capitalistic nonsense ever. It's not punk.”

 

“Is this what happens when someone listens to rock music for the first time?” Jon stage whispered. 

 

Linda flipped him off. “Shush, I've listened to rock before. I'm not that sheltered. I just don't like hypocrisy.”

 

Jon nodded. “Fair point. Let's go get some expensive water and see who else is playing.”

 

“Sounds like a plan. Onward, Dallon,” Spencer said, and ruffled the top of Dallon's hair. Dallon hoisted him up and started across the field, with the other four following them. Spencer leaned back down against Dallon's shoulder. Dallon made a good headrest, and they didn't smell too bad considering they'd been jumping around as much as everyone else. Spencer was a little biased, though, considering he was into them. 

 

“What's on your mind?” Dallon asked. “I can hear you thinking.”

 

“That's not possible,” Spencer said. 

 

“I thought so too, but then you proved me wrong,” Dallon said. In a different context, that would work as a cheesy pickup line. Spencer wished it was a different world, where he could be dating Dallon, and there weren’t five years between the two of them. It was stupid, really, because they got along well and they were in a band together, but the world had fucked up and made Dallon be born way before everyone else in the band. 

 

Dallon pinched the skin on the underside of Spencer’s knee. “Come on, Spence. Don’t get all close mouthed now.”

 

“It’s nothing,” Spencer said. “Just thinking about how weird the world is. We’re all just results of chance and varying degrees of luck. It’s wild.”

 

Dallon laughed warmly and bumped their head against Spencer’s. “It’s not the worst timeline to end up on. We could have never met each other, or Ryan could never have fallen for Jon, and then we’d never end up in Chicago where Pete Wentz could come crash in our apartment and drink all our coffee.”

 

“You don’t even drink coffee,” Spencer said, but he knew what they meant. He was really lucky. They all were. This kind of shit didn’t happen every day, and Spencer didn’t want to take any of it for granted. That was why he wasn’t torn up about being unable to date Dallon. It wasn’t a big deal, in the grand scheme of things. They were still friends, ad they were still going to play in a band together, go on tour together, and live life together. And that was all that Spencer could ask for, in the end.

 

* * *

 

**August 2, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Spencer set his drumsticks down and looked up at Ryan. His fingers were raw, his arm muscles were sore, and the recording room was humid with sweat. Ryan flexed her fingers and grinned at him, and Spencer grinned back. They were done. They’d gotten the final recording in, and the album was ready to go. 

 

This was real. 

 

“Did it… was it okay?” Brendon asked, his voice cracking. Spencer was going to make sure he didn’t speak for at least two more weeks. He’d worked his ass off, recording and re-recording songs the whole summer. Brendon deserved nothing but cough drops and love. 

 

“Yeah,” Ryan said. She hugged her guitar to her chest. “Yeah, it was good. Brendon. Guys. We’re done. We have an album.”

 

“Fucking sweet,” Jon said. He pulled his guitar off and crossed over to Ryan, dipping her for a kiss. Spencer cheered, because Ryan and Jon were adorable and he was doing his best to be a supportive best friend. 

 

It was a great moment, and cleaning up the studio didn’t ruin the mood in the slightest. Dallon suggested they all go out and do something to celebrate, but it was eleven at night on a Tuesday, so their options were limited. Spencer was still underage. By a month. He insisted that it didn’t matter, but Ryan rolled her eyes and reminded him that the bouncer’s wouldn’t care. 

 

“Ice cream?” Brendon suggested. It was hot outside, too, with the sounds of Chicago getting lost in the hot night air. It almost felt like Las Vegas. Brendon pulled at the zipper on his hoodie, which he was still wearing despite the heat. “Most places don’t close until midnight, and it’s hot out. So. It’d be cool and refreshing and shit.”

 

“I’m down,” Jon said, looking at the others, who all nodded. There was nothing bad about ice cream, except that no one knew where any ice cream shops were. It didn’t matter. They’d find somewhere eventually, and they were in no rush. 

 

Dallon pulled out their keys and got into the Brobecks van along with everyone else. Spencer grabbed the shotgun seat before Brendon could, and Brendon stuck his tongue out from where he’d been sentenced to the backseat next to Ryan. Spencer shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to be faster next time, Bren.”

 

“If you see anything that advertises ice cream, yell. Gently, so I don’t jerk the wheel and accidentally crash the car,” Dallon said as they pulled out of the studio parking lot and down onto the street. They turned up the music, blasting _ Rio _ by Duran Duran as they drove down towards the university. Dallon started singing along, and Jno joined them. Brendon attempted, but he kept coughing and at one point Spencer heard Rya slap him and tell him to, “shut the fuck up and save your voice. Jesus,” which was Ryan’s way of being concerned. 

 

“Wait, shit, I see one,” Spencer yelled over Huey Lewis’  _ I Want a New Drug _ . “Turn left, dude--”

 

“Turning,” Dallon said, shifting over a lane and managing the turn without killing anyone. The ice cream shop was still lit up, and there were people inside, so that was a good sign. There was also a glowing red  _ Open! _ sign on the front door. 

 

Spencer got out of the car before Dallon turned the engine off, but it was okay because the three others in the backseat were also scrambling to get out. It was like they were all kids, excited about getting ice cream and staying up late. They weren’t kids, though, even though Spencer wasn’t considered to be an adult yet. They were all living on their own, with jobs outside of music, and a finished record sitting on a tape in Ryan’s bag. She hadn’t let go of it since they’d left the studio. Spencer was slightly worried that she wouldn’t let Pete have it when he asked for a copy. 

 

“Well, you guys are in a good mood tonight. What can I get you?” the cashier asked, grinning broadly and showing off his long, skinny teeth. 

 

The five of them ordered, and paid for themselves since it was easiest. One day, they wouldn’t have to worry about money. Hopefully. Spencer really wanted the record to do well, because everyone had poured their hearts into it, and he didn’t want to work at a comic book store for the rest of his life. It was nice, especially with Linda there, but it wasn’t his life aspiration. 

 

Ryan tapped Spencer on the shoulder while she and Spencer were scanning the toppings. “I need to tell you something. It’s not bad, I just don’t want to make a big deal about it in front of everyone.”

 

“Did Jon ask you to marry him?” Spencer said, half joking. He liked Jon, obviously, but Jon and Ryan hadn’t been dating for very long, and he didn’t want Ryan rushing into something she wasn’t ready for. 

 

Ryan rolled her eyes. “I’m eighteen. I’m not interested in getting married yet, Jesus. No, your mom called, and she’s gonna be coming up in a few weeks so that you can get top surgery and start hormones. It’s supposed to be a birthday present, but I figured you’d want some advance notice, since it’s your chest that’s getting cut off.”

 

Spencer pressed his free hand to his chest protectively, even though he never wanted boobs in the first place. “Wait, seriously? You guys found a doctor and everything?”

 

“Yeah. You really think I was spending all of that time writing?” Ryan asked, arching an eyebrow and adding a scoop of gummy bears to her chocolate scoop. “Come on, Spence, you know me better than that. I’m a fast fucking writer when I don’t have anything else to work on.”

 

“Wait, what about touring?” Spencer asked. He poured some syrup on his, since he’d gotten mint chip and it would be weird to put a bunch of shit on top of it. Ryan had a weird obsession with toppings. Spencer didn’t. “Don’t I have to sit around for two weeks or something so I don’t mess up the stitches?”

 

“Yeah, which is why I metaphorically sucked Pete’s dick to more the release date to the nineteenth, and then we’re leaving for the tour on September 25th. It’s gonna be close, but if you’re not up to it, we can always kidnap one of the other drummers and have them fill in for you on the first few nights,” Ryan said. There were moments where Spencer was reminded that his best friend wasn’t just some artsy, dreamy girl. She was the fucker who’d planned her escape from Summerlin in the ninth grade, and had finished fifth in her class so that she wouldn’t have to worry about filling in for someone or giving a speech at her graduation. 

 

Ryan was a smart mother fucker, and only half of it came from how much she read. Her home life had filled in the rest. 

 

“You’re literally the most amazing woman in the world,” Spencer said. “Is Jon aware that he’s actually dating a supernatural being?”

 

“I’ll let him know,” Ryan said, and then scooped some crumbled peanuts onto her ice cream. Spencer made a face. He’d changed his mind; Ryan was a fucking genius, but she had the worst taste in ice cream. And clothes. And most other things. It was weird. 

 

Spencer waited for Ryan to finish adding toppings, and then the two of them joined he rest of the band in a booth by the front windows. Ryan slid in next to Jon, and Spencer slid in on the other side, beside Brendon. Dallon was squished up against the window, resting an elbow against the frame and drinking from their milkshake. 

 

“It's not bad,” Ryan said, holding the CD in her hand. There was a photocopy of the cover taped to the underside of the case, and  _ PETE WENTZ: COPY _ was scrawled onto the CD itself in Jon's handwriting. It was real, and tangible. “Hopefully someone other than Pete will like it.”

 

Spencer shook his head. “Of course people are going to like it. It's awesome.  _ We're  _ awesome. And if they don't like it we can just throw shit back at them.”

 

“We hit them with the Brobecks van,” Dallon said from around their straw. “Gently. Not enough to really hurt, but just enough to scare them a little. Don't be a jerk or Panic! at the Disco will fuck you up.”

 

“With a purple van,” Brendon added. 

 

Dallon nodded sincerely. “With a purple van.”

 

* * *

 

**August 14, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

The air conditioner was broken again, and so Jon and Spencer were up early, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. Spencer wasn't sure why the two of them had become the designated handymen, because Spencer was totally clueless, and Jon tended to fix shit with duct tape and then hope for the best. He was better with instruments. 

 

“It's still not working,” Jon said. He was wielding the screwdriver like it was a knife. There was a lot of dust everywhere. “Maybe we should just give up and get fans.”

 

“Jon. We will overheat and die,” Spencer said. 

 

Jon arched an eyebrow. “Aren't you guys from an actual desert? I thought you knew how to handle the heat.”

 

“Yeah, but Chicago has this thing called humidity, whereas Las Vegas didn't,” Spencer said. He took the screwdriver from Jon, turned it around, and hit the air conditioner with a solid clang. Still nothing. “And you'll definitely die, you flip flop wearing fuck.”

 

“Shoes are annoying,” Jon said. “And my feet don't get cold, so fuck you.”

 

“Try turning it off and on again,” Dallon said from behind them, making both boys jump. They were dressed up, and had styled their hair away from their face. Spencer had never seen Dallon look like that. It was a good look, but it was wildly different from what Spencer was used to. He knew he was staring at Dallon, gawking really, but he couldn’t look away as they knelt down between him and Jon and took a closer look at the air conditioner. 

 

Dallon leaned in, their face and shoulders blocking Spencer’s view of the air conditioner. They reached out for the screwdriver, which Spencer handed over, his fingers brushing against Dallon’s. He sat back, watching Dallon, waiting for something to happen. 

 

The air conditioner sputtered. Dallon hit the side of it with their hand, and then it turned back on, thrumming and jittering the way it usually did. They leaned back onto the heels of their feet and brushed the dust off of their hands. “There.”

 

“What’d you do?” Jon asked, because he and Spencer really had tried everything. 

 

“I worked for a repair business a few years ago,” Dallon said. “I picked up some stuff. You guys were doing fine, the unit was just being an ass.”

 

“Well that makes me feel better,” Jon said. He looked Dallon up and down. “Going somewhere? Or do you usually do housework in your dress clothes?”

 

“It’s Sunday,” Dallon said. “I’ve got church.”

 

“You go to church?” Spencer said, surprised. Considering the shit Dallon had been through, it didn’t make sense for them to still be going to church. Spencer didn’t go, except for when his family had come up for graduation, but that was because he didn’t care that much about attending church. It wasn’t important, but he’d never been told he was going to hell by his pastor. Dallon had. 

 

“Yeah, every week,” Dallon said, confused. “I thought you were aware of this?”

 

“I guess I just don’t get up early enough on Sundays,” Spencer said. He wanted to ask Dallon what it was like, going back to a place after it had hurt them so much. “What is… can I come with you? What’s it even like?”

 

“It’s more casual,” Dallon said. “But you can come if you shower and shit. I don’t have to leave yet.”

 

“I’m not coming,” Jon said. “Nothing against God, I just like getting to sleep in. It’s nice. Also Ryan’s probably stolen my pillow and I want it back.”

 

Spencer shook his head. “She’s a pillow thief.”

 

The three of them split ways, with Dallon staying out in the common area to do whatever their Sunday morning routine was, and Jon going back to retrieve his pillow from Ryan. Spencer headed back to his room and started shuffling through all of the clothes in his dresser, looking for something that could pass off as church clothes. He needed to iron most of his shirts, but he finally found one with a striped pattern sitting in the back of one of the drawers. It was usable. 

 

He showered and changed quickly, knowing that Dallon wouldn't want to be late. His mom hated when their family was late to church, whenever they went, and Spencer had gotten enough mean looks from people when he arrived late after spending the night at Ryan's house or somewhere else. 

 

Dallon was waiting by the door with a thermos of coffee in their hands. They handed it to Spencer. “I figured you might want it. You can bring it in, too, if you want. The place I go to doesn't mind.”

 

“Is it Mormon?” Spencer asked. He didn't know a lot about Mormonism, but he knew that they didn't like caffeine or gay people. Spencer was both of those things, and Dallon was gay too. 

 

“It's non-denominational,” Dallon said. “I'm trying not to let what happened to me kill my faith. I know that those people weren't doing that because of God. They were angry, and close-minded, and I don't want to let them ruin me more than they already have.”

 

“That’s… motivational? I don’t know, I was never really religious,” Spencer said. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. On one hand he’d never felt personally betrayed by the church. If they didn’t like him because he was gay, they wouldn’t like him for being a non-believer either, so their opinion didn’t matter at all. On the other hand, Spencer had grown up feeling as though he was missing out on something because he didn’t have a God to believe in. Spencer believed that there was a God out there, controlling all the shit in the world, but He didn’t care enough about Spencer to nitpick his life, or his friends lives. Spencer gave as many fucks about God as God gave about him: none.

 

“I can’t tell anyone that that’s my reasoning, though,” Dallon said. “They’ll tell me I need to let go of the hate in my heart, which is kind of bullshit. Martin and Margaret ruined people’s lives. They helped kill my best friend. I think I’m allowed to hate them.”

 

“I think you are too,” Spencer said, because he hated Martin and Margaret, and he’d never even met them. It was weird, hating a stranger, but it seemed appropriate for the situation. They’d fucked up Dallon to the point that Dallon was still recovering from everything, they’d essentially driven Breezy to suicide, and Spencer didn’t know how they’d fucked with Brendon because Brendon just never talked about it. Martin and Margaret, and anyone who had supported them, were assholes. 

 

The ride to Dallon’s church was quiet, with just the sounds of 80s music between the two of them. It wasn’t awkward, though, just comfortable. Spencer felt underdressed, even though he was wearing similar attire to Dallon. He was out of place. He wasn’t Christian, but he wasn’t not a Christian, either. Believing in God had never been much of a priority for Spencer, because his parents had never made it a priority. 

 

“Is is weird, growing up in a religious family?” Spencer asked as Dallon was pulling into the church parking lot. The sun was high in the sky, and Dallon was squinting up at the sky. Their face was lit up, and they had a small smile on their face, like they were at peace with the world. 

 

“You could say that,” Dallon said. “My parents made me feel like there was something wrong with me, just for being the way I was. I closeted myself for years because I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe they were right. You know that gay sex wasn’t legal in Utah when I was in college, right?”

 

“No,” Spencer said. “I’ve never really paid attention to Utah.”

 

“Well, it wasn’t, and so the bars I went to were all underground and a pain to get into,” Dallon said. “I went anyway, because I was tired of being scared. I figured that if God was going to smite me to hell, it wouldn’t be for loving someone. That’s not the God I believe in, that was never the God I believed in, I just didn’t realise I could seperate Him from my parents.”

 

“That’s… that’s pretty cool, actually,” Spencer said. “Not the whole gay sex being illegal in college, but that you’re getting past what your parents did to you. I’m lucky, and my parents were never shitty, but I saw Ryan growing up, and I don’t know… having abusive parents really fucks people’s sense of self worth up.”

 

“It really does,” Dallon said. They frowned. “I wish Brendon would talk about his shit. I was there when his parents kicked him out, and I don’t even know everything that happened.”

 

“Did Brendon’s parents hit him?” Spencer asked, frowning. Considering the two other people Brendon had dated in the past year, it wouldn’t surprise Spencer. Jon was the first good person Ryan had ever dated. In high school, she’d always gone after selfish assholes, people who just wanted her because she was smart, or bisexual and therefore unique. She was a goal for people to tick off, and then, once they’d gotten what the wanted out of her, she was trash to them. 

 

“Not that I know, but they didn’t have to,” Dallon said, and opened the car door. They leaned over the cupholders and put their hand over Spencer’s. Dallon looked up at Spencer through their lashes. “Talk to Brendon, seriously. He needs a friend, a lot, and… there’re certain things that you can’t talk about with your ex boyfriend.”

 

“You know he’s my ex boyfriend too, right?” Spencer said. Even though they hadn’t been officially dating, what Brendon and Spencer had had last summer still counted as something. They’d had  _ sex _ , for fucks sake. 

 

Dallon laughed, awkwardly. “Oh. Yeah, I forgot about that. I mean, at least Ryan didn’t, like, die in the middle of it?”

 

“You have a point,” Spencer said, and turned his hand over so that he could rub his thumb against Dallon’s. He wasn’t quite sure what the two of them were doing, especially since they were in a church parking lot, but he wasn’t going to ask. Dallon would stop if it got awkward.  _ Spencer _ would stop if it got awkward. 

 

Dallon let out a sigh. “We should probably go inside. The service is gonna start soon.”

 

“Yeah. Okay,” Spencer said, laughing nervously and ducking his head away so that Dallon couldn’t see him blushing. So he had more than a little bit of a crush on Dallon, so what? They were still friends, and it was fine. Spencer was fine with never being anything other that Dallon’s friend, because they were a great person and it didn’t matter that Spencer would never know what it felt like to kiss them. He could live with that. Seriously.

 

Spencer followed Dallon into the church, and the two of them sat in a row near the back. Dallon introduced Spencer to everyone who came up to Dallon to say hi, and Spencer did his best to act like a cis guy. He was so ready to start hormones so that his voice could drop and he could sound like a normal, cis guy. 

 

Dallon squeezed Spencer’s hand as the music started, and Spencer squeezed back. Dallon saw him as a guy, which meant a lot. Dallon had always seen him as a guy, even when they first met and Spencer accidentally fell asleep on Dallon’s mom’s couch. Spencer smiled to himself and leaned over towards Dallon. “Thanks, Dal.”

 

“For what?” Dallon whispered back. 

 

“Everything,” Spencer said. “But mostly for being my friend. And not being an asshole about anything. And for inviting me to do this kind of stuff. You’re a cool… not guy.”

 

Dallon shrugged, a crooked, warm smile on their face. “I try. You’re a cool guy-guy, too.”

 

Spencer squeezed Dallon’s hand again, and turned back to pay attention to the service. Dallon didn’t let go of Spencer for the whole service, and Spencer didn’t let go either. He felt weightless the whole time, in a good way. 

 

* * *

 

**August 16, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Spencer stared up at the ceiling. The band had a record coming out in only three days, he was going to get top surgery and never have to deal with a binder again (thank fuck), and the band was going on tour in about a month. He couldn’t stop grinning, because it was real. He’d been repeating everything to himself, but it still felt like it hadn’t sunk in yet.

 

“Spencer, Pete’s here again!” Brendon called out, knocking loudly against the door. “He brought bagels!”

 

“Why?” Spencer asked, sitting up in bed. He was waiting for Brendon to open up the door and let himself inside, because Brendon tended to do that, but the door didn’t open. Spencer shook his head. “I’ll be out in a minute, hold on.”

 

He checked his hair in the mirror leaned against the wall and changed into a binder before joining everyone in the kitchen area. Pete had indeed brought bagels, and they were fancy ones too, with different toppings and various spreads laid out. Dallon had one that was slightly pink. Spencer grabbed the chair next to them and grabbed a cinnamon bagel, foregoing the cream cheese. “So, why are we all gathered here this morning?”

 

“I'm back from Warped, your album is fucking awesome, and I wanted to ask you guys some questions about touring,” Pete said, grabbing a bagel and stealing some of the spread Brendon was using. Spencer thought he saw some crumbled up nuts in it. Maybe it was almond flavoured. “So, the guys and I finally upgraded to a bus, which was awesome. Do you five want a bus, or are you cool with a van?”

 

“We'll need something for the gear,” Dallon said. “But I think we can survive traveling in the Brobecks van, right?”

 

The other four nodded. Everyone except Jon had travelled cross-country in the Brobecks van before, and it hadn’t been that bad. Spencer was looking forward to it, this time. He knew these people, and after living with them for an entire year, he’d grown used to all of them and their quirks. 

 

“Sweet,” Pete said, grinning. He grabbed a bagel and one of the spreads, and started working on it. “One day you guys need to tell me what the fuck a Brobeck is. Is is some weird shade of purple? Can I make a purple  my band make a purple album called Brobeck and people would know what the fuck we're talking about?”

 

“Probably not,” Dallon said. “Since the Brobecks was the name of my college band and I don't know if the other guys are still playing. I haven't talked to them since I left.”

 

“Oh, shit, dude… what happened?” Pete said, frowning. 

 

Dallon poked the knife into the cream cheese, not looking at Pete. “It, uh, we had some differences, and it just didn’t work out. It’s not going to be an issue, though. We’ll just make sure to not talk about the van in front of anyone.”

 

“I don’t think it’ll be a problem,” Pete said. “I mean, your old band’s from Vegas, we’re in Chicago, unless you guys get world famous and feature the van in a music video, there’s no way anyone’ll care about copyright stuff. It’s a name for a band that might not even exist anymore, and it’s a sparkly purple van. I don’t think anyone will try to claim that for themselves.”

 

“I’d claim it,” Ryan said, slathering cream cheese onto the second half of her bagel. The way she was sitting, along with the sharp knife in her hand, made it seem like she was threatening Pete somehow. Ryan put the handle of the knife in her mouth and swept her hair back. “It’s the reason we’re all here. I think it’s pretty important to us as a band.”

 

“Wait until you’ve toured the country in it, then you’ll start to hate the thing,” Pete said, grinning. He pulled out his phone, and then sat up in his seat. “Oh, shit, I forgot. There’s gonna be a release party at a venue downtown. It’s the nineteenth, obviously, and you guys should totally come. I know Spencer’s gonna be underage, but he’s in the band and we can just slap an X on his hand and no one will notice. You’re like, what, a month under eighteen? You’re fine.”

 

“Isn’t the legal age here seventeen anyway?” Ryan asked. 

 

“Well yeah, but clubs still don’t let in people under eighteen,” Pete said. “Spencer’s in the band, though, so he’s an exception. Also, feel free to dress up, and if you need anything, I can cover it for you guys. You’re gonna want to impress these guys. Most of them are cool, but there are always some asshole elitists who show up to these things, and they’ll eat you five alive if they think that you’re just a bunch of kids with cool hair.”

 

“Dallon’s twenty-two,” Spencer pointed out. “Not a kid.”

 

“Dude, I’m twenty-three,” Pete said. “I still get called a kid sometimes, and I’ve been in the scene for years. Age isn’t a defining factor. All these assholes care about is how edgy and self-confident you can get.”

 

“Well, Ryan’ll be fine,” Jon said. Ryan pretended to thrust her knife at Jon, and Brendon leaned across the table to engage in a knife battle with her. Ryan looked bored, but Brendon was grinning and shouting out random fencing terms, so at least one of them was having fun. Pete pulled out his phone and snapped a picture. Ryan pulled her knife back. “What was that for?”

 

“Livejournal,” Pete said. “You’re not the only one who can run a blog.”

 

Ryan paled, and her eyes went wide. “You found my blog?”

 

“Yeah,” Pete said. Spencer was embarrassed for Ryan. He’d seen some of the things she’d put up there--and yes, there was fanfiction--and it wasn’t the kind of things Pete Wentz needed to know about. Pete grinned, and winked at Ryan in a totally friendly way, considering she’d once sucked his dick behind a venue. “You’re a good writer. And pretty accurate, too.”

 

“Um,” Ryan said, almost dropping her knife.

 

“Um?” Brendon repeated, his eyebrows furrowed. “Dude, Ryan, what are you writing about Pete Wentz?”

 

“Nothing--”

 

“Fanfiction,” Pete said. “Pretty good fanfiction, too. She made Gerard out to be more of an asshole than he actually is, and Patrick swears a lot more than you think, but other than that, it’s pretty much on point. Unfortunately, it’s all still fiction, and none of Ryan’s ideas are ever going to see the light of day, at least not in this reality. Sometimes things just don’t work out, and summer has to come to an end.”

 

“Ohh, dang,” Ryan said, sucking in a breath. Obviously she knew something that everyone else, except Pete, didn’t. “Pete, that sucks. I’m sorry.”

 

Pete waved her off. “It’s fine. At least I’ve got enough song material for the next five albums.”

 

So it was a breakup, then, and a nasty one. Spencer hadn’t even realised that Pete was dating someone. He’d never seen him with a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend, for that matter. Spencer didn’t know who Pete Wentz was into, because unlike Ryan, he didn’t follow the man’s every move. Spencer made eye contact with Ryan, trying to silently tell her that he wanted answers, after Pete was gone and they were alone. 

 

Ryan shook her head, though, which sucked, because Spencer really wanted to know what was going on. He stared harder. Ryan shook her head again. Spencer broke eye contact. He wasn’t going to get any answers, and that was fine. He still knew Ryan’s Livejournal. If he ever got curious, he could always go looking. 

 

“Well, uh, I’ll text Jon the address later, and, uh, I’ll see you guys then,” Pete said. He turned to Ryan. “And, Ryan, Patrick said he wanted to talk to you about something? I don’t know what it is, probably just music shit, but you should text him. Whenever you’ve got time.”

 

Ryan nodded. “I can do that.”

 

“Alright, rad. I’ll let myself out, have fun with the bagels,” Pete said, giving them all finger guns as he walked out of the room. They all watched him leave, because Pete was a strange character and always interesting to be around. 

 

Once he was gone, though, Spencer turned back to his friends and grinned. “This is so cool.”

 

“I know!” Brendon said, nearly bouncing out of his seat. “So, like, what are we supposed to do at the release party? I’ve… never been to a party. Like, ever. The show we did for Pete and the GSA doesn’t count, because we were the entertainment so it doesn’t count. And prom doesn’t count, because my asshole ex ruined it for me so I’m refusing to let it count.”

 

“Well, you should probably dress like a slut, and depending on the place, you might want to wear makeup,” Ryan said. “And straighten your hair. Basically, look cool, but don’t look like you’re trying to be cool. Make the faking seem natural.”

 

“They’re going to hate me,” Brendon said. 

 

Dallon reached over and messed with Brendon’s hair, styling it so that it all swooped in one direction. “You’re not hopeless. You just need to clean up a little. And have Ryan do your makeup so you don’t look like a baby in skinny jeans.”

 

“Pete said we could use his card to pay for new clothes, so…” Jon said, wiggling his eyebrows as an open suggestion. Spencer nodded in agreement. If they were allowed to go out and buy new, fancy clothes, then there was no reason to pass up on the opportunity. Besides, they were about to drop an album. They could pay Pete back later, and he wouldn’t mind the wait. He was cool about that kind of stuff. 

 

* * *

 

**August 19, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Spencer’s jeans were tight, and he felt like his legs were going to get squeezed off. He’d let Brendon style his hair, because apparently Brendon was good at hair stuff when it wasn’t his own head, and Spencer had ended up looking like a twinky gay dude who posed for magazines. It wasn’t the worst look he could be sporting. He just wished that he could move his legs. 

 

Dallon looked stunning, and was donning glittery eyeshadow and messy eyeliner that made his eyes look impossibly blue. They were like a walking cliche love interest from a boring teenage romance novel. That, of course, would make Spencer the lead girl, and he didn’t see himself as a girl, so the comparison didn’t hold up. 

 

Jon was wearing flip flops, even though they were about to go into a dance club, but he’d let Brendon have a go at his hair, and Ryan had lined his eyes in black, so he fit in with the others. He had an arm around Ryan’s waist as the five of them approached the venue. There were people gathered outside, but Pete had told them to go in around the back, since they were the reason for the party. 

 

The alley behind the venue was dark, and there were a few puddles of old, oil streaked water scattered around. Spencer was careful not to step into any of them, and pulled Brendon back before he could walk into one and splash everyone. Dallon walked up to the door and knocked. A tall guy, almost as tall as Dallon, opened the door and looked the five of them up and down. He nodded. “You guys the band?”

 

“Yep,” Dallon said. “Panic! at the Disco, in the flesh.”

 

“Alright, come on in, Pete’s by the soundbooth, trying to get them to play My Chem, for some reason,” the bouncer said, opening the door fully to let the five of them in. Spencer was the last one in, his hand low on Brendon’s back as they walked into the venue. Brendon leaned back and looped his arm over Spencer’s shoulders, pulling him close as they mingled through the growing crowd, somewhat following Ryan, Jon, and Dallon over to where Pete was.

 

“You look good, by the way,” Spencer said to Brendon, half screaming over the music. “Makeup suits you.”

 

“That’s pretty gay, Spence,” Brendon screamed back. There was a huge grin on his face, and he seemed to have lost all of his previous nervousness. Spencer was glad. Brendon deserved better than feeling like he was worthless, or less than perfect. 

 

Spencer shrugged. “I’m pretty gay. It fits.”

 

“Yeah, you really are. We both are, actually,” Brendon said, his eyes flicking down to Spencer’s mouth. Spencer wondered if Brendon was going to kiss him, and they were going to go back to what they’d been a year ago. He wouldn’t mind. Brendon had gotten hot over the past year, changing from an awkward, gangly guy with a bad haircut to some kind of gay emo heartthrob. The band wouldn’t have any issues with getting fans, so long as Brendon was at the front of every photo. Brendon ran his tongue over his lips. “So, uh, since we’re both gay… wanna dance? I know it’s My Chem, and it’s not really something you dance to, but…”

 

“I’m willing to try,” Spencer said, pulling Brendon away from the soundbooth and down into the crowd. They weren’t dancing, so much as jumping up and down beside each other, sing-screaming along to the words. Spencer lost track of everyone else as he and Brendon swam further into the mass of people, getting pushed against each other as more people came into the venue. 

 

Brendon was pushed forward, stumbling towards Spencer and grabbing onto Spencer’s shoulders so that he didn’t fall over. He stood up, his face inches from Spencer’s, and Spencer raised an eyebrow. He put his hands on Brendon’s hips and pulled him in close, so that he could feel the heat of Brendon’s body against his. “Well?”

 

“Yeah,” Brendon said, and then kissed Spencer, holding his face in his hands. He opened his mouth, and Spencer slid his tongue in, licking at the inside of Brendon’s mouth. Brendon threaded his hands through Spencer’s hair like he didn’t know what to do with them, and Spencer let his hands drift downward, over Brendon’s ass. 

 

That, of course, was the moment that Pete grabbed the microphone and got everyone’s attention by cutting off the music. Spencer and Brendon broke apart, and Spencer moved away from Brendon so that they weren’t too close to each other to be suspicious, even though they’d just been making out in front of a bunch of strangers. At least Spencer was trying. 

 

“Hey guys, I’m Pete, I’m in a little band called Fall Out Boy, but that’s not important tonight,” Pete said, charming and adorable as usual. “Tonight, my good friends in a band called Panic! at the Disco have just released their first album, and we’re all here to make sure it doesn’t sound like shit! Now, between you and me, it’s pretty fucking awesome, but just in case my opinion sucks, I’m gonna bring up the five kiddos who make up the band, so that you guys know who to throw shit at. Or congratulate, if you don’t want to be a jerk.”

 

Pete waved at Brendon and Spencer, and Brendon grabbed Spencer’s hand, pulling him through the crowd and up to where Pete and the rest of their band were gathering. Pete had them all introduce themselves, which was terrifying because Spencer didn't know anyone here and they were all older and cooler than him. Brendon was the last to get the mic, and he stepped toward the crowd when Dallon handed it over. He grinned. “Hey, I'm Brendon, I sing, and our band is cooler than Pete's. So, enjoy! Also I'm single if anyone wants to make out later.”

 

“Brendon, shut the fuck up,” Ryan hissed, leaning across everyone to take the mic back and give it to Pete. 

 

The DJ started the music, and the sound of Brendon's voice flowed through the room. Brendon sounded amazing, even recorded, and the people there liked it, jumping and dancing around even though they didn't know the lyrics yet. Spencer and the others jumped back into the crowd, joining them. Spencer couldn't help but sing along, dancing in front of Ryan as the two of them screamed here lyrics out loud for the first time. 

 

Now that the album was out, and they were done with the writing and rewriting and recording, everything was easier. Spencer wasn’t worried about touring, or playing live in front of people who didn’t know them yet. It wasn’t on his radar. He was just enjoying the night, happy that Ryan was happy and that their band was actually going somewhere. 

 

Someone wearing smudged black eyeliner and pants tighter than Spencer’s bounced up between the two of them, throwing an arm around Ryan. She ducked under him, and hid her snarl in a smile. “Hey, what’s up? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

 

“I’m a friend of Pete’s,” the man said. His words were slurred together. “You’re the guitarist, right?”

 

“One of them,” Ryan said, looking at him suspiciously. Ryan was good at telling when a guy was an asshole, and if she was wary, then so was Spencer. “My boyfriend’s the other.”

 

“Boyfriend?” he asked, a slanted grin on his face. “So you two are both fags, then? That’s what’s up with the dress and the heels and shit?”

 

Ryan side-eyed Spencer, sending him a silent message.  _ If you don’t, I will. Doesn’t matter that this is our release party. I’m not putting up with this shit, not again.  _

 

Spencer nodded, sending back a look of his own.  _ Go for it. I’ve got your back. _

 

A grin crossed Ryan’s face, and she pulled her fist back before hitting him in the jaw. It was a solid punch, and he bent over, holding his face tenderly and swearing as the opening lines of  _ Lying _ filled the room. Ryan and Spencer stepped up in his face, relishing in the irony of the whole situations. Two years ago, they would have been the kids on the floor, cowering in fear as the popular kids from school mocked them and threw slurs and punches at their faces. Now, though… now Ryan and Spencer  _ were _ the popular kids. 

 

“This is our Goddamn release party,” Spencer said. “If you don’t like that it’s music for gay kids, by gay kids, then you should probably step out and put your money elsewhere. We don’t need assholes like you.”

 

“You’ll never make it here,” the guy hissed back at him. “Over-sensitive fags like you don’t belong in the punk scene.”

 

“Then we’ll make our own fucking scene, bitch,” Ryan said calmly, with a smile on her face. She lifted his chin up and rubbed her thumb across his lower lip. “I was never one for fitting in. Having a band and an album isn’t going to change that.”

 

The guy stood up, slowly, still glaring at Ryan. He didn’t say anything to her or Spencer, but shoved Spencer’s shoulder aggressively as he walked past and towards the exit. Spencer and Ryan watched him go, and then Spencer turned to Ryan and gave her a high five. Punching a jerk in the face probably wasn’t the best for the band’s image, but it was still the right thing to do. Transphobic people were a pain in the ass, and if Spencer and Ryan could get away with punching a few of them, then, well, he’d be okay with that. It was the closest to revenge he could ever get on the people who’d made his and Ryan’s time in high school hell. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed!


	17. wsyict

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read until the end. You won't regret it.

**September 2, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

“Do you want anyone to go back with you?” Ryan asked. All five of them were in the hospital waiting room, along with Spencer’s mom. His dad had stayed in Summerlin with his two sisters, since they weren’t able to line up a babysitter and Spencer’s mom didn’t know how long she’d be in Chicago with Spencer after his surgery. Spencer was nervous, and a little nauseous because of it. 

 

He swallowed and shook his head. “I don’t think anyone’s allowed to come back. Except, like, my mom.”

 

“But afterwards?” Ryan asked, squeezing Spencer’s hand. 

 

Spencer squeezed back. He was nervous, but so was Ryan. They went through everything together, but this was one thing that Spencer had to do without Ryan by his side. “You can come back as soon as they let you, don’t worry.”

 

Spencer glanced across the aisle, at Dallon. Dallon offered Spencer a smile, and Spencer smiled back before turning back to Ryan. “Also, I’m probably gonna be fucked up on pain meds, so if you’re there you can stop me from saying anything really gay and embarrassing in front of my mom.”

 

“Would the gay and embarrassing things be about Dallon, or about Brendon?” Ryan asked. “Because I definitely saw you two making out at the release party before we punched a dick and turned it gay.”

 

“I’m never letting Dallon and Jon anywhere near glitter ever again,” Spencer said. “I think there’s still some in my hair.”

 

Ryan smacked him gently on his arm. “Don’t avoid the question. Who are you being gay about, Dallon or Brendon?”

 

“Both?” Spencer said. He was into Dallon  _ and _ Brendon, and it was a little weird, because usually Spencer only got a crush on one person at a time. He tapped his fingers against his leg. “Is that weird, to have a crush on two people at once? Like, do people do that or?”

 

“It’s a thing,” Ryan said. “Don’t worry about it. Just make sure both of them are cool with it, and then kiss away, dude. You’re an adult now. There’s nothing stopping you.”

 

“Right,” Spencer said. The nurse came out and called his name. Spencer gave Ryan’s hand a final squeeze, before walking to the back door with his mom beside him. He squared his shoulders and kept his head high, doing his best not to act nervous. He answered the nurses questions and hugged his mom goodbye before she left so that he could get undressed and the surgery process could get started. The doctor explained everything she was doing as it happened, and that Spencer was going to be under for the whole time, so that he wouldn’t feel any pain during the surgery, and Spencer nodded along. 

 

When he woke up, his entire chest was numb, and he was wrapped up with gauze. There were IVs coming out of the gauze, but his chest was flat and he was… he was flat. Spencer tried to laugh, but his throat was dry from breathing through his mouth for the past few hours, so just just coughed a little and tried to swallow. 

 

There was a cup of water sitting beside the bed, and Spencer reached out and took a sip from it. He tried to sit up a little in his bed, but everything made him feel woozy, so he just dropped back down on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. 

 

He heard the door open, and looked up to see the nurse from before coming in, followed by Spencer’s mom and Ryan. Spencer raised a hand, waving a little. “Hey guys. I’m alive.”

 

“Well that’s good,” the nurse said. “Other than alive, how are you feeling?”

 

“I can’t feel my chest,” Spencer said. 

 

“That’s normal,” the nurse said. “It’s going to itch, and you’re going to want to avoid doing any physical activity, especially with your upper body. Your mom and your friend told me that you played drums in a band, which counts as physical activity, so you’re going to have to skip practice for a bit. Just until the incisions start to heal, and then just don’t overwork yourself.”

 

“That’s fine,” Spencer said. “We planned it so I wouldn’t have to do anything.”

 

The nurse nodded, and said a few more things to Spencer and his mom before leaving to go get the others. His mom was the first one to come over, and she pulled up a chair and took his hand in hers. Spencer squeezed gently. “Hey mom. I'm a real boy now.”

 

“You were always a real boy, Spence,” she said, smiling a little. “I'm proud of you, by the way. You're really brave, to be doing all of this on your own.”

 

“Mom, I'm not alone,” Spencer said, looking over at Ryan who was standing by the door with her arms crossed. Ryan didn't like hospitals, because they reminded her of her dad. Spencer was glad she was here, though, because he really did need her support for things like this. Spencer turned back to his mom. “I've got Ryan, and other friends. I'm in a  _ band _ . We're friends, all of us, and we're there for each other. It's a bond. Like friendship, but hardcore.”

 

“Well, I'm glad you're not alone then,” she said. She scooted back and looked over her shoulder at Ryan. “Your turn, before everyone else gets here.”

 

Ryan came over and sat on the edge of the bed, tucking a leg under herself and leaning forward, towards Spencer. “Are you drugged up, or are you just… loopy or whatever?”

 

“I think I’m drugged up,” Spencer said. He felt a little weird, but he’d also just had his boobs cut off, so he didn’t know how much of it was because of that and how much of it was from pain meds. He closed his eyes for a moment. “Thanks, by the way. You and mom are awesome. This is awesome. I’m never wearing a shirt again.”

 

Ryan laughed and rolled her eyes. “Don’t lie, you’ve never gone shirtless in your life.”

 

“I had boobs then,” Spencer said. “Now I don’t. There’s nothing holding me back.”

 

Ryan shook her head. The door opened again, and she and Spencer turned to see Dallon, Brendon, and Jon walking in through the door. The three of them were hovering, like they couldn't tell if it was okay to come closer or not. Ryan motioned for them to move, and Jon was the first to respond. He walked over and ruffled Spencer's hair, messing it up so that it was sticking up everywhere. “Guess what?”

 

“What?” Spencer asked. 

 

“You have to pay taxes now,” Jon said. “Also, happy birthday, we'll get you a cake as soon as you get home.”

 

“Can you pay my taxes instead?” Spencer asked. He had not been paying enough attention in Econ class. He had no idea how to do taxes, and he didn't want the IRS to come after him because he'd fucked up and given them the wrong number. “I don't know how to do those. I can make a cake.”

 

“I have no idea how to do taxes either, don’t worry,” Jon said. 

 

“Make a cake out of taxes,” Brendon suggested. 

 

“No,” Ryan said. “We are not feeding Spencer paper right after he just got stabbed for medical reasons. We’ll make a normal cake, out of flour. And whatever else goes into cake. I’ve never made a cake.”

 

“I’ll help you four with that, don’t worry,” Spencer’s mom said. Thank fuck for Spencer’s mom, who was actually the best mom and had never let Spencer down, ever. Even when he’d decided to just up and fucking leave Las Vegas with two people he’d never met before. Except that he had met Brendon, but like, once. At a Smoothie Hut. Spencer did not make a lot of good decisions. 

 

“You do realise you’re saying all of that out loud, right?” Brendon said. “Also, you scared the shit out of me when we first met because I thought you were some angry stalker dude who was going to, like, follow me home and stab me. You’re kind of scary when you’re being protective.”

 

“Tell that to Derek,” Spencer said without thinking.

 

“Dallon was scarier,” Brendon said. He glanced over his shoulder and grinned up at Dallon. “You should be our bodyguard.”

 

“No,” Dallon said. “I think I like being in the band more.”

 

“Can’t you just do both?” Spencer asked. He really wanted to be alone with Dallon, because he had this dumb idea that when it was just the two of them, they’d have their Hallmark movie moment where Dallon confessed that they were in love with Spencer and then they gently made out on the hospital bed. That couldn’t happen if there were witnesses though. 

 

“Unfortunately, it’s not that easy,” Jon said. “Pete tried being his own bodyguard, and he ended up with a black eye. The other guy got his nose broken, but still. Don’t try to bodyguard yourself. I can’t play bass and guitar at the same time. I’m not that talented.”

 

“Are you all going to  _ need  _ a bodyguard?” Spencer's mom asked, looking concerned. “You're not in danger, are you?”

 

“No, we're not, don't worry,” Ryan said. Spencer wished that someone else was explaining things to his mom, because Ryan's standard for not worrying was a lot higher than most people's. She put up with a lot before even  _ thinking _ about asking someone for help. “Bands really only get bodyguards when they have a bunch of fans, especially if those fans are the kind prone to stalking or jumping on stage to grab the band members.”

 

Spencer's mom still looked distressed. Spencer poked his mom's hand. “Mom, it's okay. No one wants to stalk us; we're just some random kids from Las Vegas.”

 

“And Chicago,” Jon added. “But seriously, Ms. Smith, we're not going to need a bodyguard any time soon. We're a small band, no one knows who we are, there's no reason for anyone to be obsessed with us. We'll be fine when we're on the road.”

 

“I hope so,” she said. The conversation wandered away from bodyguards and dangerous touring adventures, and instead to things that wouldn't freak Spencer's mom out. Spencer tried to keep up, but he was sore and numb and drugged up, and sometimes he just didn't hear what the others were saying. He felt a little floaty. 

 

Dallon noticed it first. “Hey, do you want us to give you some space? You look a little tired.”

 

“Maybe? I guess, I don't know where you'd go,” Spencer said. 

 

“Just out into the waiting room,” Dallon said. Spencer nodded. That seemed like a good plan. Dallon leaned over Ryan and Spencer's mom and brushed Spencer's hair down over his forehead. “Alright, we'll leave you alone for a little bit. Stay rested, stay hydrated--”

 

“You don't have to be his mom, Dallon,” Spencer's mom said. “I'm right here.”

 

“Sorry,” they said. 

 

Spencer's mom waved him off. “Don't worry about it.”

 

The five of them stood up and headed for the door. Ryan tried to linger behind, but Jon put an arm on her back and nudged her towards the door. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “Spencer's fine, Ry. He just needs a nap.”

 

“Wait,” Spencer said, as Dallon was opening the door for everyone. “Dallon, can you stay here for a second? I wanna talk to you about something.”

 

Dallon looked to Spencer's mom, like they needed her permission to stay back with her son. Spencer’s mom nodded, looking a little confused. Ryan shook her head, silently judging Spencer from across the room, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to say anything about his crush, he just wanted to talk to Dallon. Alone. About shit that had yet to be determined. Spencer waved at all of them, and they waved back before leaving him and Dallon alone in the room. 

 

Dallon stuffed their hands in their pockets and walked back over to Spencer, standing over his bed. “What’s up?”

 

“I like your presence,” Spencer said, because he was drugged up and not sure where he was going with all of this. Maybe he should have let Ryan stay. She’d know what to do. “You’re warm. And you’re comforting. You’d make a good pillow.”

 

“I think I’ll stick with being a person for now,” Dallon said. They still looked awkward, like they were waiting for some big announcement. Maybe they wanted Spencer to confess his feelings, but Spencer doubted it. Just because he was finally eighteen didn’t mean he’d stopped being a teenager. There was no way Dallon saw him as an adult now, when just hours ago, he’d still been a kid in their eyes. It took time to adjust to things. Spencer wasn’t going to push Dallon. 

 

“You’re happy, right?” Dallon said quietly. “With all of this?”

 

“Yeah, of course,” Spencer said. “I wouldn’t have agreed to it if I didn’t want it. Besides, boobs suck. I’d give Ryan mine if that were possible, because she wants some, but I can’t. It sucks. You know how they have sperm donations and blood donations? They should have that, but for boobs. Just, like, sell your boob to someone who needs it. Trade them for a dick.”

 

Dallon laughed, ducking their head. They had dimples, which was adorable. Spencer wasn’t sure how he’d never noticed that before. Spencer reached out and pressed the tip of his finger against Dallon’s dimple. Dallon sat up, staring wide-eyed at Spencer. “What--”

 

“You have dimples,” Spencer said. “I had no idea.”

 

“I’ve had them my whole life,” Dallon said. They swallowed. “Spence, seriously, is there something in particular you wanted to talk to me about, or…?”

 

“Kind of, but Ryan said it’d be a bad idea, and I agree with her. Mostly,” Spencer said. There was a part of him, the part that still believed in soft and gentle romance, the part that envied how easily Jon and Ryan had gotten together, that thought he had a chance. That was how it worked in movies; the lead, in a hospital bed for a better, more heroic reason than Spencer, would take the hand of the love interest and finally, after an hour and a half of endless pining, confess their undying love. Then the couple would kiss, and cheesy music would play, and the credits would roll. 

 

This wasn’t a movie, though. This was real life, and Spencer was still a baby-faced kid, and Dallon was still an adult. There was no way it would work out. 

 

“Try me,” Dallon said. They took Spencer’s hand in theirs and rubbed their thumb over the back of his hand. “I promise not to judge you for anything you say.”

 

“I like you,” Spencer said. It felt like he was letting out a deep breath in the middle of the ocean, finally able to tread water and not feel like he was drowning. “In a gay way, not just a friend way.”

 

Dallon smiled again, but this time it was a sad smile, and they were looking down at their hand, holding onto Spencer’s. “I know.”

 

“You know?” Spencer said, frowning a little. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

 

“You know why,” Dallon said. Their voice was barely above a whisper. They closed their eyes and clenched their jaw, but didn’t let go of Spencer’s hand. “When I… when Brendon and I ended things, and I found out Breezy was dead… I thought it was Brendon at first. It was right before the meeting was supposed to start, and I was still so fucked up because of everything that I didn’t even think about anything, I just walked in there… I was about to tell those guys everything. I was about to tell them that I’d almost had sex with a teenager, and that maybe they were right, maybe there  _ was _ something wrong with me--”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Spencer said. “It’s not your fault Brendon said he was eighteen.”

 

“I know, Spence, but I was…” Dallon paused, and took a deep breath. “I was just so disgusted with myself then, that it made everything worse. And I know that you, and Brendon, neither of you would--fuck. I can’t do this.”

 

“You don’t have to,” Spencer said. He loosened his grip on Dallon’s hand, in case Dallon didn’t want to be touching him anymore. “I know that this doesn’t change anything.”

 

“It does, though,” Dallon said. “It shouldn’t, but it does, and I don’t know what I feel, about you or about anything.”

 

Spencer squeezed Dallon’s hand, gently. “It’s okay, I’m not in a rush. And I’m here for you, as a friend. Crushes don’t mean anything, not when it comes to friendship shit.”

 

“Don’t wait for me,” Dallon said. “You don’t know how long I’m going to need.”

 

“And you don’t know how many fucks I’m willing to give about you,” Spencer said, looking Dallon right in the eyes. “It’s a lot, by the way. You’re worth a lot of fucks to me. At least ten. Probably twenty.”

 

That got a laugh out of Dallon again. They leaned forward and kissed Spencer’s knuckles. “You’re amazing, Spencer Smith. Don’t let anyone say otherwise.”

 

* * *

 

**September 9, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Spencer was staring at the ceiling. His eyes were itchy, he was exhausted, and his chest hurt like a mother fucker. He’d already taken pain medication, more than was recommended, but it wasn’t doing anything. He couldn’t get comfortable, and he just wanted to pass out and go to sleep. Spencer was going to scream. Quietly. Into his pillow so he didn’t wake anyone else up. 

 

Instead of screaming, he sat up from his pile of pillows and headed out to the main area of the apartment. He had a blanket wrapped around shi shoulders because he was tired and blankets made him feel better in general. 

 

Brendon was standing by the front door, bent over with one leg up, holding his shoe in his hand and still wearing the other one. There was glitter in his hair and his lips were red and swollen. His eyes went wide. “Why are you still awake?”

 

“I couldn’t sleep. It was too painful,” Spencer said, wrapping his blanket tighter around his shoulders even though he no longer had a chest to conceal. “What were you doing?”

 

“I was out,” Brendon said, very suspiciously. 

 

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Dude, you can say you were at a club, I don’t care. You’re an adult, you can do what you want. Just have safe sex, and don’t leave your drink alone and all that. Mom advice, since we don’t have a mom here.”

 

Brendon laughed, awkwardly. Spencer wasn’t sure why. There was nothing funny going on. Brendon stood up and kicked his other shoe off, and then ran his hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face. Whatever was in the glitter was making it stay put. There was even some glitter on his arms, and his shirt was half unbuttoned, showing off a series of bitemarks. It would be trashy if Brendon wasn’t attractive. He looked Spencer up and down. “This might be weird, but would it help if I was there? At least you wouldn’t be staring at nothing alone?”

 

“It can’t make it any worse,” Spencer said. He turned back around, and Brendon followed him into his bedroom for something entirely non-sexual. It was strange; the last time Brendon and Spencer had shared a bed, it had been for fucking. Now, Brendon was stripping down to his boxer briefs, shaking off some glitter, and climbing into Spencer’s bed. 

 

Brendon draped an arm across the pillows. “It’s cool that I’m in my underwear, right? I usually sleep naked.”

 

“It’s fine,” Spencer said, and joined him. He couldn’t lay on his side, because that made the soreness worse, so instead he curled up beside Brendon and turned his head to rest it on Brendon’s shoulder. Spencer closed his eyes. “I still can’t sleep.”

 

“Sorry,” Brendon said. “Wanna talk about stuff then? We haven’t talked in like, forever.”

 

“Yeah, sorry about that. I wasn’t sure where we stood, after everything,” Spencer said. His eyes were still closed. He figured that if he kept them closed for long enough, his body would figure it out and let him fall asleep. 

 

Brendon pulled Spencer in closer, rubbing his shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ve never been good at asking for what I want. My parents made me feel bad for wanting anything, and then told me I was being selfish if I asked for anything. I guess it messed me up more than I thought.”

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Spencer asked. He opened his eyes and looked up at Brendon. He was reminded of summer nights back in Vegas, when he and Ryan were younger and Ryan would come flying through the window, shaking and pulling her sleeves down to hide the bruises forming on her arms. Talking never solved anything, because words were just words and they did nothing to stop the punches, but it gave Ryan somewhere to vent. She didn’t have anyone she could trust, because she was a child, and no one believed children when they said they were being abused. 

 

“Kind of? You’ll hate me for it if I tell you, though.”

 

“You don’t know that,” Spencer said. He reached out and took Brendon’s hand in his. “Sometimes you just need to vent. I won’t hold anything you say tonight against you.”

 

“So, Dallon probably told you this, but my parents kicked me out when I told them I was gay,” Brendon started. He was looking out Spencer’s window as he talked, and his face was occasionally illuminated by red and blue flashing lights as ambulances and police cars streaked through the night. “I didn’t know where to go, so I started hitchhiking. And that was cool and all, except I didn’t have a a lot of money and I couldn’t afford to keep going. The guy who was driving me… he said he’d let me fuck my way out of it if I wanted to. I didn’t want to have sex with him, because he was like forty years old and not really attractive. I had sex with him anyway, and then again the next day, and then after that I stole all of the cash from his wallet and fled.”

 

Spencer didn’t have the right words for Brendon, because he was pretty sure there weren’t any right words, so he just held onto him instead. 

 

“I’ve always had a fucked up relationship with sex, you know? I think it’s because of my family. They were so obsessed with staying pure, and not tainting our bodies before we got married, and then school wasn’t like that, so I got curious and there was no one to tell me if I was ready or not,” Brendon said. “I’m not naive. I know what rape is, and I know that that happened to me, but like, it wasn’t the first time I’d had sex with someone older, and it wasn’t the first time where it was kind of, really illegal. Like, I was fifteen, and I lied and said I was eighteen, and it worked, and I lost my virginity to a woman I met off the internet.”

 

Brendon looked away from the window, his eyes locking with Spencer’s. His face was cast in the neon shadows of the city outside, and for a moment, Spencer was taken back to the previous summer when it had been just him and Brendon in a football field in Nebraska. There was something about Brendon and the night. He fit there, in shadows and in secret. Light shined off of his lashes when he blinked. “I don’t know how to love someone, or be loved. It’s always been sex, or nothing at all. I don’t know how people show that they care, or whatever.”

 

Spencer sat up and pressed a kiss to Brendon’s cheek. Brendon’s skin was rough with stubble, and Spencer tasted a little sweat and glitter on his lips when he pulled away. “This is me caring about you, Bren.”

 

“What about Dallon?” Brendon asked. “I thought you and them…”

 

“We’re friends,” Spencer said. “For now, at least. But I mean, I wouldn’t be against dating both of you, if you guys were okay with it. Obviously not now, but like, at some point. That’d be cool.”

 

 

“We can, we can start now. If you want,” Brendon said. Even in the darkness, Spencer knew he was blushing. Brendon turned his head away, looking out the window and then up at Spencer’s ceiling, his eyes wandering for somewhere safe to land. “You don’t have to, I mean. I know we didn’t work out well last time, and I don’t know what I’m doing, not really, and I’ve never had a relationship that wasn’t based around sex before--”

 

“If you want me to be your boyfriend, the answer is yes,” Spencer said. “It was always yes, I just didn’t know you were afraid of asking.”

 

“I’m afraid of a lot of things, actually,” Brendon said. He turned back to Spencer. Their faces were so close, Spencer could just tilt his head and kiss Brendon. He didn’t, though. He was going to let Brendon lead this. Spencer was ready, he was just waiting on the two people he was falling in love with to figure their shit out. He was patient, usually, and Brendon was beautiful. 

 

“I’m not afraid of you, though,” Brendon said.

 

“Well that’s good.”

 

“Shut up, I’m trying to be poetic,” Brendon said, pushing Spencer’s face away. 

 

Spencer laughed. “There’s a reason Ryan writes all the lyrics, Bren.”

 

“I know, but,” Brendon smiled at Spencer, and Spencer wanted to say that it was love. He really, really hoped that it was. “If I’m gonna be your boyfriend--for real this time--I want to do it right. I want to impress you. And, like, seduce you and all that jazz.”

 

“You’re doing a pretty good job as it is,” Spencer said. He wanted Brendon to kiss him, but he kept his mouth shut. Brendon could do this on his own time. Spencer wasn’t going to pressure him. Spencer wanted to make sure that Brendon understood that Spencer saw him as more than just a sex toy. Brendon was a person, and he meant a lot to Spencer. Spencer would never purposely use him.

 

“Do I… should I kiss you now?” Brendon whispered shyly.

 

Spencer bit his lip without meaning to. “If you want to.”

 

“I do,” Brendon said, He cupped Spencer’s face in his hands, his fingers warm against Spencer’s cheeks, and leaned in. His mouth tasted faintly of alcohol and cola flavoured chapstick, and Spencer was glad he’d remembered to brush his teeth before trying to go to sleep so that his own mouth didn’t taste gross. He kissed Brendon back, gently, tenderly, hyper-aware of the bandages around his chest. Brendon’s hands never wandered, and the two of them just kissed the night away, gentle, soft against the neon night. 

 

* * *

 

**September 20, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Linda’s dorm room was small, but she’d decorated it with Christmas lights and polaroids, so it looked lived in already. She was in an honours program, just like Ryan had been, so she’d been living on campus for the past few weeks already. This was the first time Spencer had been able to visit her since he’d quit at the comic store and gotten his boobs chopped off. He was still wearing bandages, because his chest was sensitive, but the doctor had said that there was minimal scarring and that he’d be able to play drums again by the time the Panic! tour started in five days.

 

“So, what’s college like?” Spencer said. He was sitting on the empty bed that would soon be taken over by Linda’s roommate. “And dorms. This is the first time I’ve ever been in a dorm. They’re a lot smaller than I thought they’d be.”

 

“You should see the singles,” Linda said. “The bathroom isn’t disgusting yet, so that’s good. Then again, there’re only like seven other people on this hall so far, so it’s not like I’ve seen the real horrors of sharing a bathroom with fourty other people. I’m not looking forward to that.”

 

“At least you’re not going to be living out of a van for the next few months of your life,” Spencer said. “Because that’s what I have to look forward to.”

 

“You’re not taking eighteen hours including an eight AM calculus class because that was the only one that fit into your schedule,” Linda said, raising an eyebrow at him. She had a point, because calculus sucked, and it sucked even more that Linda’s AP score hadn’t gotten her out of taking it in college. Spencer didn’t know a lot about college, but he did know that college math classes were one of Satan’s best ideas.

 

“That’s what you get for being an overachiever, I guess,” Spencer said. 

 

“Says the guy whose band got signed before he was even able to legally vote and he had to be snuck in through the back door for his own album release party,” Linda countered. “You’re an overachiever too, jackass.”

 

“Are you allowed to say jackass in debate classes?” Spencer asked. 

 

Linda shrugged. “No idea. I’ll let you know, because considering some of the other people in the Poly Sci honours program, I’m going to be saying it a lot.”

 

“Straight dudes?”

 

“Straight dudes.”

 

“That sucks,” Spencer said. At least there was an actual LGBT center on the campus. Most college campuses didn’t have one, or at least didn’t advertise it as well as Chicago did. Linda’s parents had no idea that she’d already applied to work with the center, or that she was joining a bunch of other left-leaning clubs. She was keeping her life secret, which Spencer was cool with. He wouldn’t want Linda to put herself in danger just to be honest with her parents. 

 

There were certain things that parents never needed to know about. In Linda’s case, it was that their daughter was a flaming lesbian. 

 

“So, how’s the shirtless life?” Linda said, dropping back dramatically onto her bed. “I see you’re wearing one today.”

 

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Unlike Brendon, I actually  _ like _ wearing clothes. It’s pretty awesome, though. I didn’t realise how annoying binders were until I no longer had to wear one. Also, my leg is, like, permanently sore from injections at this point. I have too much leg for this shit, I don’t know where to poke the needle.”

 

“You’ll figure it out eventually,” Linda said. “At least you’re not secretly taking a pill every morning so that you don’t have to worry about having a period.”

 

“I should probably be on birth control, at least until the T starts kicking in,” Spencer said. Linda looked concerned, and a little confused. Spencer rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m dating Brendon, for real this time. We haven’t gone all the way yet, but, like, it’s going to happen. And also Dallon.”

 

Linda’s eyes widened. “Dallon?”

 

“Yeah,” Spencer said. “It’s not like… we’re not dating yet, or anything, but Brendon and I are both into them, and… I think they’re jealous? I don’t know, but they’ve been acting weird ever since they figured out that Brendon and I are back together.”

 

“Have you told hi--them that you and Brendon want to date them, or are you relying on your telepathy for that?” Linda asked. Spencer couldn’t believe it. He didn’t need Ryan to judge him for his bad decisions anymore; he had Linda to help out. “Because, surprise, people are really bad at guessing when someone’s into them. Sarah literally had to give me a bouquet of carnations before I even realised who she was, and she’d been coming in for months before.”

 

“Oh, shit, seriously?” Spencer said. 

 

Linda nodded. “Yeah. Wanna get food and piss off straight guys by being as gay as possible?”

 

Spencer frowned. “Um. I don’t doubt you, but how are you and I supposed to get any gayer?”

 

“I have rainbow socks,” Linda said, grinning. She opened a drawer and pulled out a bunch of rainbow stuff, including a pair of thigh high rainbow socks. She dangled them in the air. “These are mine, by the way. You don’t get to wear them. Anything else, though… it’s all yours. Go wild.”

 

* * *

 

**September 24, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Linda had a point. If Brendon and Spencer were going to try and date Dallon, eventually, whenever Dallon was ready, then they’d have to tell Dallon. Spencer probably should have made that clearer when he first told Dallon he had a crush on them, but he didn’t know that he’d end up dating Brendon at that point. 

 

It was their last night in the apartment, and everything was bare. Some of their stuff was getting sent back to Spencer’s parents’ house in Las Vegas, or to Jon’s parents, but most of it was being put in a storage unit for whenever Panic! at the Disco returned from tour. Ryan and Jon had already gone to bed, Dallon was in their room, and Spencer was trying to figure out if it was too early to burst through Dallon’s door and confess his crush, again. 

 

Brendon was making a face at Spencer, like he couldn’t believe how ridiculous his boyfriend was acting. Spencer flipped him off. “You’re not allowed to judge me.”

 

“I’m your boyfriend,” Brendon said. “I exist to judge you.”

 

“Okay then, you go in first,” Spencer said, motioning towards Dallon’s closed door. Brendon didn’t move, and seemed to sink further into the couch cushions. Spencer crossed his arms over his chest, still not used to having the extra space there. “Thought so. Come on, let’s do this. If we don’t do it now, we’re gonna end up awkwardly dancing around them all tour long and then Ryan and Jon will never let us live it down.”

 

“Good point,” Brendon said, jumping up from the couch and actually sprinting over to Dallon’s door. Spencer facepalmed and then followed Brendon over to Dallon’s door, just as Brendon was flinging it open. Dallon looked up at the two of them from behind their laptop, their face illuminated in confusion by the screen. Brendon leaned against the doorframe in his version of a sexual pose. “You’re hot and Spencer and I both want to date you.”

 

“What,” Dallon said. 

 

Spencer pressed his forehead against the other side of the doorframe. This was… not what he’d planned. “Dude. Tact. Seriously.”

 

“Sorry, I’m just really gay,” Brendon said, which was a valid excuse. Spencer had done some pretty impulsive shit in the name of being gay as hell. He pulled at Spencer’s shirt and then pulled him into Dallon’s room. “So, uh, take two. Spence and I both like you, in a gay way, and, like, if you wanna date either or both of us, that’d be cool. Yeah.”

 

Dallon looked over at Spencer. Spencer shoved his hands in his pockets. “My feelings haven’t changed, Dal. I still really like you. I’m just… polyamorous, or whatever.”

 

“Before I agree to anything,” Dallon said, their eyes flicking back and forth between the two boys. “How serious are you two about your relationship, right now? Because last time you two did anything together, it didn’t end too well.”

 

“We’re serious,” Spencer said. “Like, boyfriends who hold hands in public kind of serious. Like, talked about asking you out before we actually did it because we wanted to do this whole thing right serious.”

 

“Almost got too nervous and chickened out, serious,” Brendon added. “Because I can’t speak for Spencer, but I definitely get butterflies and all that when I think about you. In a gay way. Also in general, because you’re you.”

 

Dallon swallowed. Spencer felt like his body was all wound up, and Dallon was holding the string to release him. They ran their hand through their hair, tugging at the ends. They nodded. “Yes. I don’t want to rush us, but, yes, I’d like to date you. Both of you.”

 

“Sweet!” Brendon said, grinning. His eyes widened. “Dude, does that mean we can make out now? Because I seriously miss making out with people.”

 

“You could have mentioned that to me,” Spencer said, pretending to be offended. Brendon just shrugged and leapt onto Dallon’s bed, making the mattress bounce under his sudden weight. Dallon closed their laptop and put it to the side, and then motioned for Brendon to come join them at the head of the bed. Spencer didn’t wait for an invitation. He just crawled into bed and tucked himself in beside Dallon. “You get the middle since you’re new.”

 

“I call little spoon,” Brendon said. He rested his chin on Dallon’s shoulder. “Also can I kiss you now? Since we’re officially dating?”

 

“In a second,” Dallon said, and then turned and kissed Spencer. Spencer wasn’t expecting it, and he gasped against Dallon’s mouth, his heart skipping a beat because Dallon was  _ kissing him _ , and everything was suddenly in hyperfocus. Spencer grabbed Dallon’s face before he really knew what he was doing, but he needed to be holding something to feel like any of this was real. Dallon’s lips were soft, they smelled like fresh laundry, and it was an amazing first kiss. 

 

Dallon pulled away, their mouth slightly parted, and Spencer almost went in to kiss them again, but they turned their head and kissed Brendon. 

 

And then Spencer had to kinkshame himself a little, because seeing Dallon and Brendon kiss was doing something for him. Their mouths fit together like familiar puzzle pieces, but the kiss was so innocent and sentimental that Spencer forgot all of their past together. Dallon’s long fingers were curled under Brendon’s chin, their thumb pressed between their faces, and Brendon was smiling into the kiss. 

 

Dallon pulled away, and Spencer looked away, feeling guilty for a moment before he remembered that he was dating both of them, and that it didn’t matter if he watched them kiss. It was only a kiss. Spencer reached out and kissed Brendon, gently, letting his tongue poke out and slide against Brendon’s lips. He turned to Dallon. “Do you want us to stay the night?”

 

Dallon shrugged. “I don’t see why not. I mean, we’re about to get crowded into a van, we might as well get used to close quarters.”

 

“Awesome,” Spencer said, and kissed Dallon again, just because he could. He pulled the covers up over the three of them, and shuffled down against Dallon’s side. He still had to sleep on his back, but it was fine. Brendon rested his head on Dallon’s chest, and Dallon pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Spencer smiled at the both of them. He closed his eyes, warm and comfortable, and for the first time in a while, he felt sleep drift over him immediately. 

 

* * *

 

**September 25, 2005; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Spencer was woken up by the lights suddenly being turned on and Dallon making an angry noise and throwing themself at the pillows. Spencer rubbed his face and squinted up at the person in the door, who was not Pete, but Jon. Spencer ran a hand through his hair. “What time is it?”

 

“Time to leave for tour,” Jon said. He looked between the three of them. “I’m guessing you three pulled your heads out of your asses, then?”

 

Spencer scrunched up his nose. “What?”

 

“Jon and Ryan were making bets about when we’d all get together,” Dallon said into their pillow. Spencer didn’t want to know how Dallon even knew. 

 

“I won, by the way. I guessed that you three would figure it out before tour but Ryan said that Spencer wouldn't do anything unless he absolutely had to,” Jon said. He pointed at Brendon, who was still an unconscious lump on the other side of Dallon. “And you guys should probably wake Brendon up. We're supposed to get the gear trailer in an hour with Pete.”

 

Spencer and Dallon managed to get Brendon up, but only with the promise of pancakes before they hit the road. Spencer took the fastest shower of his life, bothered Ryan until she gave him her straightener (he'd already packed his, and besides, he and Ryan were used to sharing), and didn't even bother putting shoes on before grabbing his final suitcase of stuff and heading down to the Brobecks van. They'd left enough room in the trunk for bedsheets and suitcases, but everything else was already in there. 

 

“Ryan, we're about to leave!” Jon yelled into the apartment as Spencer was running back down the hall to make sure that he'd gotten all of his shit out of his room. He still wasn't wearing shoes, but they were sitting in the front seat of the van, so he hadn't forgotten them. 

 

“I know, I’ll be out in a minute!” Ryan yelled back from inside the apartment.  Spencer rolled his eyes and ran past Jon, his feet padding against the carpeted floor as he headed to Jon and Ryan's bathroom. 

 

Ryan was sitting on the floor, hunched over with her head in her hands. She wasn't crying, but she was very small. Spencer crouched down next to her, gently resting his hand on her shoulder. “Hey. Are you okay, Ry?”

 

“I don't know if I can do this,” she whispered into her hands. “They're gonna hate me. They're gonna call me a guy in a dress and they're going to think all of this is ridiculous and no one’s going to like the music and I'll forget how to play on stage and they'll call me a hack, and then someone's going to find out that I sucked Pete’s dick and say that's the only reason we're famous--”

 

“Ryan,” Spencer said. “Listen to me: you're amazing, and poetic, and a badass woman. And if it ever gets too much in front of everyone, just turn around, because I'm right behind you, and I'll always be right behind you. I've got you, okay? You're not going into this on your own.”

 

“Fuck,” Ryan said. “I'm terrified.”

 

“I am too,” Spencer admitted. As exciting as it was that all of this was real, it was a lot more than Spencer had ever expected. He'd never expected everything to work out so quickly. “But we've got the band, and if it doesn't work out, we're not entirely fucked. You've still got Chicago to fall back on.”

 

“I dropped out,” Ryan said. She swallowed. “It was too much to do at once, with all the band stuff and writing and everything. I was going to fail, and I didn't want that on my record, so I just dropped out. My only future is with this band, Spence. I'm fucking terrified.”

 

“Then we'll make it work,” Spencer said. “You deserve that.”

 

Ryan had worked her ass off to get here, and Spencer wasn't going to let her fail. He'd rob a bank and buy hundreds of copies of the album himself, if it came to that. He really hoped it didn't come to that. Spencer didn't want to go to jail for robbery. It wouldn't make the band look too good. 

 

Ryan nodded, and sat up a little. “Okay. Okay, let's do this. Where's Jon?”

 

“Waiting outside, probably convinced that you died or something,” Spencer said, standing up. He reached out for Ryan and pulled her up too, ignoring how weird it felt in his chest to be using those muscles after two weeks of nothing. Drumming was going to suck. 

 

Jon, Ryan, and Spencer headed down to the van. Jon dropped off the keys to the apartment at the front desk, and that was the end. An entire year in Chicago, over. The end of an era. Spencer was sitting in the front seat of the Brobecks van, his shoes still on the floor of the car, and he felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him. He was going to miss this apartment, and all the things that had happened in it. He was even going to miss Kenwood, despite not having too many memories there. 

 

Spencer turned around to look at Ryan, Jon, and Brendon. The three of them were in the back, hunched over the set list and already rearranging things for the show. Spencer rolled his eyes. “Guys, come on, we haven't even left Chicago yet.”

 

“Shh, let me overthink things,” Ryan said, waving her hand at Spencer. 

 

“Where are we even playing tonight?” Dallon asked. At least Spencer wasn't the only one relying on Ryan to know what was going on. 

 

Ryan looked up from the papers in her lap. “Columbus, Ohio. We've been over this.”

 

“I'm just following the Fall Out Boy bus, I'm not paying attention to things,” Dallon said. “But hey, that'll be cool. I've never been to Columbus.”

 

“Well, you will tonight,” Spencer said. He leaned back in his seat and dropped his sunglasses down onto his face. “First day of tour, let's go.”

 

* * *

 

**September 25, 2005; Columbus, Ohio.**

 

Spencer was standing beside the stage, nervously tapping his drumsticks against his leg. There were a lot of people out there. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. This was it. This was their first real show as a band, and they were about to play in front of a bunch of people who were there for Fall Out Boy. Brendon was bouncing up and down next to Spencer. He nudged Spencer with his shoulder. “Nervous?”

 

“A little,” Spencer admitted. 

 

“Hey, at least you've got a drum kit between you and everyone else,” Brendon said. “I'm gonna be the center of attention.”

 

“You're going to be fine,” Spencer said. “You're a natural.”

 

“Kiss for good luck?” Brendon asked. 

 

“Find Dallon first, and then yeah,” Spencer said. Brendon nodded, and sprinted off in search of the bassist. Spencer took another deep breath. His hands were sweaty. He was worried he was going to end up dropping his sticks. 

 

Ryan was still backstage, messing with her makeup. They were all five done up with intricate makeup art, because Ryan was good with her hands and she needed to hide behind it without making it seem like she was hiding behind it. Jon was sitting beside her, his hand on top of hers, and talking quietly. Spencer couldn't hear what he was saying, but he didn't need to. Ryan wasn't alone. She didn't need Spencer, and that was okay. They were still best friends, they still confessed secrets to each other, and nothing was going to change that. 

 

A hand curled around Spencer's arm, and he jumped, raising his drumsticks defensively. It was only Brendon, though. Brendon let out a nervous laugh. “I found Dallon.”

 

Spencer looked past Brendon, and sure enough, Dallon was standing there. They looked relaxed, which wasn't fair. They walked up to their boyfriends and kissed Brendon before turning and kissing Spencer. Dalon rested their hand at the base of Spencer’s neck, rubbing their thumb against his skin. It felt nice. “It gets easier after a few shows.”

 

“Oh yeah, you’ve done this before,” Spencer said. “Lucky.”

 

Dallon shrugged. “It was never like this. Usually we were in someone’s basement, and there were maybe twenty people total. Including the band. This is a the biggest show I’ve ever played.”

 

“This is the second show I’ve ever played,” Brendon said. He put a grin on his face and turned to Dallon. “But that doesn’t matter. I sing in front of people all the time. Try to keep up if I get a little ridiculous on stage.”

 

“Don’t worry about me. I know what to do on stage,” Dallon said. They leaned in and kissed Brendon, the glitter in their eyeshadow catching in the lights from the stage. Bredon splayed his hands out across Dallon’s chest, curling his fingers in like he wanted to grab the fabric but knew better than to mess them up right before the show started. Dallon pulled back from Brendon. “You're amazing, just go out there and be yourself, and they'll love you.”

 

“Got it,” Brendon said. He winked, and then leaned around Dallon to grab Spencer and kiss him. It was an open mouthed kiss, and Brendon practically drew Spencer's tongue into his mouth, pressing against Spencer and keeping his hands on Spencer's waist. He pulled back with a smack. “Your turn, baby. Don't get too distracted by my ass.”

 

Spencer rolled his eyes. “No promises.”

 

Brendon jumped up onto his toes and waved at Ryan and Jon. “Guys, we're up! Come on!”

 

Ryan jumped up from her chair, grabbing her vest and carefully putting it on so that the chains wouldn't rip the fabric. Ryan's outfit was the most complicated, because Ryan was the artsy type and she liked going over the top with things. 

 

Dallon turned to Spencer and kissed him, their mouth warm against Spencer's. They tasted like lipgloss, which was kind of hot. Spencer didn't realise that Dallon wore lipgloss, but now, licking at Dallon's lips and trying to figure out the flavour, he wanted Dallon to always be wearing lipgloss. They'd look good with shiny, soft lips. 

 

“Ready?” Dallon whispered against Spencer's mouth. Spencer nodded. Dallon smiled and stood up, pulling their bass strap over their head. “Then let's go. Show them who Panic! really is.”

 

Spencer nodded. Brendon was the first of the five of them out on the stage. Dallon, Ryan, and Jon walked out as a trio, holding their instruments up so that they didn't hit each other as they arranged themselves around Brendon. Spencer came out last, walking up to his kit and sitting down behind it. He took a deep breath in, then out, and started a drumroll. 

 

“Columbus, Ohio!” Brendon said. “Welcome to tonight's show, and prepare yourselves, for a picturesque score of passing fantasy. We… are Panic! at the Disco.”

 

Spencer raised his sticks, taking a deep breath in. Ryan turned and looked over her shoulder at him, her wide brown eyes standing out under her layered bangs and expressive makeup. Spencer nodded, and Ryan nodded back. He breathed out, and brought the sticks down, for their first time as a real band. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wsyict.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lJofd-u89BE&feature=youtu.be


End file.
